Breaking Havoc
by the.twisted.queen
Summary: When Archer begins to abuse his power, a certain blonde lieutenant gets stuck under his fist. Will Havoc be able to endure the weight of Archer's "affection? Or will his waning resolve crumble? Noncon/Rape/Violence. ArcherHavoc, eventual RoyHavoc
1. Let the games begin

A/N: This will be a multichapter story. So basically, this is not for the weak of stomach, nor the weak of mind. If you are into fluff and consensual sex...this probably isn't the fic for you. There will be happy lovey dovey relationships later, but not until the very end of the story. Current non-con ArcherHavoc, eventual RoyHavoc. Enjoy the read.

Warnings: Oral sex, beatings, non consensual sexual acts and ANGST!!!

Disclaimer: Really, I don't own it. If I did, it certainly wouldn't be a children's show.

**Chapter 1: **

"My my, if it isn't one of Mustang's loyal dogs." Havoc almost winced at the smile that curled on that all too pale face.

Snapping up into a salute, the blonde faced the man in front of him with a locked jaw and unblinking eyes. "_Colonel_ Archer sir." He his hand raised, waiting patiently for his newly ranked superior to put him at ease.

Archer did no such thing, instead choosing to lean forward on his desk, folding his hands under his chin with a smug smile. "I do believe that my summon was for Colonel Mustang himself, not one of his little puppies." His smile was smug, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Havoc stiffened, moving his gaze off to the side some, but still standing firm in his salute. "The Colonel isn't well today sir." He stated, before flicking his bright blue gaze back up to lock firmly onto the dark haired man's face. "He's at home in bed, I will relay any message you require for him to hear." He hadn't wanted to come, but Mustang was in no shape to deal with this son of a bitch. The flame alchemist was bedridden with a high fever, having worked himself up with worry over the Elric brothers…meaning that Archer was directly at fault for his condition.

Archer clicked his tongue disapprovingly, shaking his head with a small grin. "Now that won't do at all. How irresponsible of the Colonel…slacking off all day and leaving his lackeys to deal with his important matters."

Havoc forgot his rank for a moment, slamming his hands down on the desk in front of him with a growl. "Don't you dare talk about the Colonel like that!" He roared, leaning forward to glare at Archer. "It's your own damned fault that he's worked himself to death and you know it!" If there was one thing that Jean Havoc couldn't stand, it was letting someone talk shit about Mustang.

Archer's smile fell, his gaze narrowing dangerously. "I don't remember giving you permission to speak freely soldier." He stated, leaning back in his chair some. "That's direct insubordination."

Havoc gritted his teeth, drawing his hands to his side and balling them into fists. "Of course." He stated, his voice shaking somewhat. "Forgive me sir. I should not have behaved like that towards a superior officer." He had to be careful where he was treading, or he could step on the wrong feet.

Archer rose from his chair, his calm carefree demeanor returning once more. "No harm done soldier." He stated, strolling around to prop himself up against the edge of the desk, right in front of the blonde. He watched the second lieutenant carefully, his eyes boring into the man's skin as he took in everything. The subtle shaking of Havoc's fists at his sides, the finger tips that dug into the younger soldier's palms, the slight tightening of his shoulders as the dark haired man approached him. Nothing escaped Archer's scrutinizing gaze. "You're very loyal to him…aren't you?"

Havoc felt his head snap up, slightly taken aback by the statement, before he found himself frowning once more. "I would follow him to the ends of the earth. My only loyalty lies with him." He was passionate in his beliefs, and his strongest belief was that Colonel Mustang was a good man, with good ideals. And he'd stand next to that man, even if it meant his own demise.

"Hm." Archer reached forward, his hand grabbing at Havoc's chin with bruising force. The blonde let out a shocked noise, stumbling slightly as the Colonel pulled him roughly forward. Archer grinned, tilting the lieutenant's face to the side and examining his expression closely. Releasing the other he allowed him to step back, before he grinned. "I don't believe you."

The hint of mocking in Archer's tone made Havoc bristle once more. His eyes narrowed, and he drew back slightly. "And just why the hell not?"

Seeming to ignore the question completely Archer stood, before beginning to pace around the room, his gaze flicking lazily to the pictures framing the light colored walls. "You know…" He began, stopping as his fingers trailed over a rough watercolor draping the wall just next to the office door. "I found out a little interesting something about the Elric brothers the other day…about what they are…about what they did." The newly promoted Colonel couldn't help but smirk at the tightening of the blonde's shoulders as Havoc tried his best to appear calm. Oh? He'd hit a nerve had he? "And to think, if I said anything, all the work that poor Colonel Mustang has put into keeping these boys out of harms way, would go right out the window…a loyal puppy would never let something like that happen…would he?"

Havoc swallowed as Archer spun around, trailing back towards him with that shit eating grin of his. The blonde felt his jaw tighten, realization sending a chill creeping up his spine. Archer was testing him. He was testing his loyalty, testing his perseverance, and testing his will as a soldier. He clenched his jaw, letting his arms go limp at his sides, and ducking his head in submission. "What is it that you'd have me do…_sir_."

Archer's grin was that of a man who was getting exactly what he wanted, how he wanted it. The sneer within the sincerity alone would have been enough to cause any man to shudder, and shudder Havoc did. "You're a brave man lieutenant." Archer's voice was practically cooing as he strutted over to the blonde, his hand reaching out to clasp the younger man's shoulder. "Agreeing to the deal when you haven't even heard the conditions yet." He stated, his gaze holding a look of slight accusation.

Havoc couldn't help but scowl at Archer's tone, though he knew he was in no position to object to anything. "I don't need to know the conditions sir." He stated, not willing to back down even in the slightest from the older man's gaze. "I'm willing to do anything it takes to defend my superior officer, _sir_."

Archer didn't miss the venom in the word, but he chose instead to take it with a grain of salt. He had, however, practically already achieved his goal. Now that he had havoc's cooperation, there was only one more thing that he needed to do. "Soldier, have you had any recent medical examinations?"

Havoc blinked, before relaxing slightly, a confused and skeptical look creasing his features. "Yes sir I have."

"And..?"

"I was all clean sir." He stated, not really sure as to where Archer was going with all of this. "No injuries, no illnesses, no ailments of any sort. 'M the healthiest smoking man I know sir."

"Good." Archer stated, moving his hand slowly up Havoc's throat, relishing the small noise and wide eyed stare that accompanied his actions. "Now, get down on your knees." His fingers pushed on a small nerve bundle at the base of the blonde's neck, pressing down until his knees started to buckle.

Havoc had little choice but to go where that hand was directing him to. Not to say that he would have had much of a say otherwise. As much as he figured, he had a duty to both Mustang and the Chief. A little bit of time with this creep was a small price to pay to ensure that none of them got hurt. He really just wished that he knew what Archer was planning behind that polite demeanor and that wicked grin.

Once Archer had Havoc kneeling at his feet, he slowly drew his hand through the blonde's short, soft strands. He continued petting the lieutenant for a while, not saying a word as he gazed down at Mustang's subordinate with that same damned look on his face. Havoc shifted slighted from where he was on the ground, his eyes shooting to the side uncomfortably as to avoid Archer's piercing gaze. The moment he began to shift to much, the Colonel gathered a fist full of blonde hair in between his fingers, and tugged Havoc's head back up. "Such pretty lips you have Lieutenant." He murmured, running his fingers along the younger soldier's mouth with a small grin. "Let's put it to good use shall we?"

Havoc felt heart plummet down into his stomach. He had subconsciously feared something like this, but he'd never actually expected Colonel Archer to stoop as low as sexual harassment, especially since Havoc had done nothing wrong. He couldn't hold back the quell of terror that molded in his gut as the Colonel reached down, undoing his own trousers, before tugging the fly open. The man drew forth his large and already swollen cock, tugging harshly at Havoc's hair and pulling the blonde towards him.

Archer smiled, his grip tightening ever so slightly as he guided Havoc's resistant head towards his crotch. The lieutenant barely had time to object, the words caught in the back of his throat as Archer forced himself into his mouth, almost choking the lower ranking officer in the process. Havoc felt himself gag, his lips drawing subconsciously away from the intruding appendage. His hands instantly flew to the Colonel's hips, trying to push away, even as the man's hand held him firmly in place. He struggled for only a moment, not daring to bite down as a hand twisted painfully in his hair. His scalp burned painfully, and his eyes began to water uncontrollably. "We have a deal lieutenant." Archer stated gruffly, giving Havoc's head another sharp jerk, a warning for the blonde to behave. "You do as you're told, and the boys and Mustang are left alone. Now suck."

Havoc felt a half growl, half whimper escape his lips. He reluctantly began to take more of the older man into his mouth, his head bobbing in a slow and hesitant way, much in the same matter he'd seen some of his dates do. Archer made a small sound of approval, the hands in his hair only tightening more with each pleased noise. The Colonel's encouragement only served to make Havoc's stomach turn, forcing him to fight down a sudden wave of nausea as the head of the man's cock struck the back of his throat.

After a while, Archer was full out thrusting into the blonde's open mouth, his eyes rolling back and his mouth parted in a small 'o' shape. He breathed deeply, his demeanor remaining still calm, and that smug look still ever present on his features, even in his moments of ecstasy. Havoc tried his best to breathe through his nose, finding that it was plugging up from his watering eyes. He instead attempted to gasp out a breath around Archer's erection, his mind swimming from lack of oxygen. He barely managed a mouthful of air when the Colonel ripped forward, pushing his lips all the way to the man's balls, before a bitter substance filled his mouth. Havoc, surprised by the sudden nauseating taste, made the stupidest mistake of his life. The second he felt the spurt of liquid hit the back of his throat…he bit down. Not hard enough to do permanent damage, but hard enough to send Archer reeling.

It was almost worth it to see that agonized expression on what was usually a smug looking man. However Havoc decided otherwise as a fist collided with the side of his face, knocking his off to the side. His head hit the ground with a dull thud, his mind swimming with pain. Archer didn't look like much, but he sure had one hell of a punch. Havoc slowly pushed himself up, spitting out a mixture of red from his now bleeding cheek, and white from the semen that still caked the inside of his mouth. He only had a moment to recover, before Archer was on him again, kicking him in the stomach hard enough to leave him gasping.

"Son of a bitch." Archer growled, hauling the once again fallen Havoc up to his feet, before dragging him roughly over to his desk. With one sweep the surface's contents lay scattered on the floor, and the blonde found himself face first against cool wood. His arms were tugged sharply back, his shirt opened roughly, a few buttons flying off before the fabric was tugged back behind him to his wrists, binding his hands tightly. His shoulders were rolled in an awkward position, a grimace finding his way his mouth pressed firmly to the desktop. Archer stood back, before reaching around Havoc's waist to undo his belt buckle.

Havoc paled as his belt slowly slid from his pants, Archer undid him, and pulled down, taking the lieutenant's boxer shorts down with them. The blonde twisted, trying to get a better view of Archer from behind him. He was going to get raped. This man was going to rape him, because he was loyal to his superiors. However cold hands never found his hips, and Archer moved no closer to him. Taking the moment of silence, Havoc opened his mouth to try to reason with the man, before the swish of leather slicing through air caught his attention, and moments later the sharp sting metal fell upon his ass. Havoc cried out, arching away as strike after strike began to fall upon his back, arms, and posterior. He tried to move to the side, but every time he moved to far, a hand grasped his bound arms, jerking them up until he thought they were going to snap, and then once he stilled, the beating continued.

Archer said not a word through the whole thing, his features stoic as each lash grew more brutal, the strikes soon taking off flesh with the bite of the buckle as the man beneath him tried his best to stay silent. Havoc bit down on his lips, trying not to let any further noise escape his throat, with little avail. The blonde felt tears brimming in his eyes, his mind fogging with pain as he refused to scream, hoping to outlast the Colonel. But Archer wouldn't stop, not until he had Havoc begging, and beg he did.

"Stop!" The cry escaped the blonde's lips before he could swallow it, and no sooner had the word sounded through the office, did the beatings stop. Archer dropped the belt to the ground, straightening his uniform and reaching down to unbind his prisoner. Havoc slumped down as soon as his arms were released, allowing himself to crumple to the floor in a pathetic pile of blood and tears. His whole body ached, his pride shattered and his mind just a little bit broken.

"Clean yourself up and show yourself out." Archer stated, brushing his hands against the front of his shirt as if to clean it of some invisible filth, before turning towards the door. He paused as his hand reached the handle, his gaze fixed forward and his face calm. "Heed my warning Lieutenant. This isn't over. And I hope that next time we have a little meeting, you'll behavior will be changed sufficiently. Am I clear soldier?" Havoc shook his head, taking in a deep breath as he tried desperately to lift his head from the floor. "I said am I clear. Soldier."

"S-sir." The cracking of the blonde's voice was enough to make the Colonel smile as he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Havoc fell completely to the carpet, his chest heaving slightly. He brought his hands up, cupping his swelling face from Archer's punch. Hunching his shoulders he curled up, and began to sob.

------TBC------

A/N: Drop me a review if you liked/disliked it. If you have complaints about the squiggy nature of the fic, I'll listen to them, but nothing's going to change. This is an ANGSTY fanfiction. And I intend to keep it that way for the most part.


	2. Stains of Wine and Blood

A/N: No real warnings for this chapter, just a lot of good old fashioned Havoc angsting. :)

On a side note: THANK YOU TO MY REVIEWERS! I know so many people who just read a story and think: Wow, this is worth bookmarking, but never drop me a comment or concern! Thank you all! A couple of thigs:

1. I do feel bad for what I'm doing to Havoc...but I just love angst. Bear with me on this guys! There will be a happy ending!  
2. I'm am one of the BIGGEST Archer fangirls out there, and I know that he gets a pretty bad rap and all, but I'm going to have to add to his bad reputation just for the sake of the story, so please forgive me!  
Aaaand  
3. This will in fact contain real fluffy romance type Yaoi, however not until later chapters. Only then will Havoc get his knight in shining armor!

I LUBERS YOU ALL!!!

::Heart!!!:: Hope you enjoy the read!

Disclaimer: Really, if I owned it, I wouldn't be writing this, I'd be making it happen in the actual Anime! So for all you Havoc sympathizers, be glad that I don't own anything. Otherwise that poor little bishie would be a tad bruised up before the end of this.

**Chapter 2: Stains of wine and blood**

It was only after an hour or so, that Havoc managed to work up the nerve to draw himself up from where he lay crumpled on the floor. The tears had finally ceased falling, drying in streaks down his aching cheeks. His mouth had become painfully swollen, his jaw throbbing as he gently brushed against his purpling cheek. Even the slightest touch caused him to wince, and he was sure that he had sliced the inside of his cheek sufficiently. However, his main concern was not that of his banged up face, but rather the oozing, bloody gashes that kissed his back and shoulder blades. Even his forearms had received quite the lashing, open lacerations twinging painfully as the salty sting of sweat seeped into the open wounds. The cuts weren't deep, but they were long and thick and would be terribly uncomfortable.

Worst of all, were the stinging lashes that bit into his backside, making the prospect of sitting at his desk the next day seem almost unbearable. He would fidget and squirm, he would bleed into his seat, and he would get even less work done than usual, if that was even possible. Someone would notice, and that someone would be the person whom he never wanted to have to know about this.

"Mustang…"

No, the Colonel couldn't know. He had enough on his plate, and if he found out that Archer was tormenting his subordinates, the flame alchemist would surely do something stupid. After all, no matter how good a leader Roy Mustang was, he had a quick temper, and a thirst for revenge that nothing could quench.

Havoc slowly wavered as he drew up his pants, the fabric of his boxers dragging painfully across his still bleeding wounds. He fastened the belt just tight enough to keep his pants on his hips, before carefully sliding into his military jacket. He just knew that his cuts would bleed through, and that his uniform would be stained a nice dark crimson by the time he got home, but he had no other choice. He'd just have to wash out the marks by hand once he trusted himself to stand properly. After all, the first thing he needed to focus on, was getting himself home before he passed out.

Stumbling across the room to the office door proved easy enough, however his wavering steps were quickly noted by Archer's private secretary, whom caught sight of Havoc as he moved out into the hall. She stood, seemingly concerned by the staggered, jerky movements that the Lieutenant tried his hardest to mask, moving towards the injured man. "Are you quite alright sir?"

Havoc stopped, attempting to flash the woman one of his carefree smiles, only to be hit by a wave of pain. He clutched his once again throbbing cheek, cursing to himself for forgetting about his bashed up face. "I'm just fine ma'am." He managed, slurring slightly because of his injuries. "Just had a bit too much to drink during break." He tried to laugh, flinching once more. "I picked a fight with Colonel Archer, and got my drunk ass whooped."

The woman sighed, seeming to buy the blonde's story. She flashed him a scornful look, clucking her tongue in disapproval. "Now now, drinking while on duty is a serious offense sir." She stated, pushing up her glasses as she moved to settle back down in her chair. "You're quite lucky that the Colonel chose to beat some sense into you, rather than have you court-martialed. I'm assuming you've learned your lesson then. You be one your way now!"

Havoc's features darkened somewhat, his gaze growing distant as he slowly began to hobble on his way once more. "Yeah, I've learned my lesson fine." The soft murmur wasn't meant for any ears other than his own. He now knew that there was no point in trying to fight against a man with as much power as Archer. Who knew what the crazed man would do if Havoc refused him again? However, what awaited him if he submitted seemed just as dismal a prospect. There was no winning. If he fought Archer, he would be fucked over. If he gave into the man, he would still be fucked, but just in the literal sense. There was no way out for him.

Sighing Havoc shook his weary head, ridding himself of any more useless thoughts. The best thing for him to do was to focus on getting himself away from the headquarters, and into his nice soft bed at home. A good nights sleep, and a couple pounds of first aid supplies, and he would be as right as rain. Or at least that was, until Archer got a hold of him again.

He stepped outside the main building, limping his way down the cobble stone front walk and towards the faculty parking lot. Fumbling for his keys he managed to haul himself inside his standard issue, black military vehicle, and closed the door. He sat gingerly, almost crying out as his pants rubbed painfully against his tortured backside. Once he had steadied himself enough to calm down, he started up the car, and pulled out into the street.

The ride home seemed a lot longer than usual, his every squirm and shift causing small bites of pain to erupt all the way up his back. He had the sickening feeling that his wounds were scabbing to his clothing, a thought that made him shudder. He needed to focus on the road, however, and turned his attention back to his surroundings. He'd almost missed his turn after all.

Once he managed to carry himself into his small townhouse, he allowed himself to slide back down onto his hands and knees, panting slightly. He could barely move without tugging painfully at his abused back. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat, slowly dragging himself down the hallway towards the bathroom. There was no way in hell he would be able to tear the bloodied fabrics from his aching skin, not dry anyway. He managed to crawl into the bathroom, reaching blindly out to turn on the faucet to his large, porcelain tub. He turned the knob as far to the right as possible, watching with morbid satisfaction as the boiling water shot out into the basin in a cloud of steam. The hotter the liquid, the easier it would be to gently maneuver his uniform from his body.

Once he had filled his bath almost to the brim, Havoc turned off the faucet. He carefully drew himself up from the ground, sliding into the scalding hot water with a long, slow hiss. It was almost too much for him to bear…_almost_. But bear it he did. After the initial feeling of his skin being cooked alive, his nerves slowly began to numb, getting him used to the ridiculously hot temperature. Soon, he couldn't feel anything at all, and it was only then that he started to attempt to peel away his uniform.

The shirt went first, dragging along his shoulders relatively smoothly, but catching on a few of the dryer gashes on his forearms. Nothing that a quick tug and a deep breath couldn't handle though. Once his jacket and blouse were freed from his upper body, he let them slop lazily to the ground, a small pool of watered down blood seeping from the red stained fabrics.

Next, was his pants. This proved more difficult than the shirt, in that he was having a hard enough time sitting completely still on his aching rear. The amount of twisting and maneuvering it took to slip out of his bottoms was enough to bring tears to the grown man's eyes. He let out a long pained whimper, frustration laced within the desperate sound. But with a little more patience, and a hell of a lot of perseverance, the pants too joined the rest of his uniform in the soggy pile on the ground. He then managed to get out of his boxers with much ease, tossing them over the side of the tub with a sigh. Well, that was done, now for the hard part. He had to convince himself to get out of his warm cocoon, and figure out where in the hell he kept a medical kit in his damned house.

The water had already begun to seep into his wounds, drawing out the blood in pinkish swirls within the slowly cooling liquid. It took a moment, but Havoc finally managed to drag himself from the fading warmth. He snagged a towel from the cupboard, wrapping it gingerly around his waist, all the while knowing that it would stain. He just couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. In fact, his next immediate though, was cleansing his mouth of the crusted semen that still lingered on his cheeks and tongue.

The task proved more difficult than it seemed.

Two ruined toothbrushes and a bottle of Listerine later he still couldn't get the stubborn taste from his mouth. For some reason he just couldn't make it go away, that man's bitter flavor. It was as though it had burned into his taste-buds, overwhelming him, forcing him to face up to reality, robbing him of his false hopes of forgetting. As if the aching wounds kissing the entirety of his back wasn't bad enough reminder. He sighed, putting down the worn out toothbrush before slowly cradling his head in his hands. He still had to bandage his wounds before he could rest. That, and he needed to figure out a way to get the blood stains from his uniform.

Eventually working up the nerve to move, Havoc stumbled his way out of the bathroom and towards the hall closet. He threw open the wooden door, standing on tippytoe as he reached around blindly for a much needed white box, perched oh so conveniently on the top shelf. Finally managing to maneuver a corner of the plastic container into his grasp he tugged it down, nearly dropping it in the process. As he closed the closet door once more, moving back towards the bathroom, he made a mental resolve to put the first aid kit in a more accessible place, in case this were to happen again. And if Archer's promise held true, Havoc would probably be needing to restock the treasure trove of bandages and polysporin in the not so distant future.

Dropping the plastic medical kit on the bathroom counter Havoc slowly dropped the towel from his waist. He turned, facing his back to the mirror, and tilting his head over his shoulder. He felt himself grimace at his first real view of the damage that the deranged warmonger had caused him. He probably wouldn't be able to do a sufficient enough job of wrapping himself up on his own, but he couldn't exactly ask someone for help. By the end of his self-diagnostic, had decided to just to wrap up the entire of his torso and forearms with medical tape, using the gauze pads for his bloodied behind. The bandaging job was a bit shoddy, but it was the best he could do by himself, and he still had other things to take care of. Such as the daunting task of doing the laundry.

Picking up his still dripping and still thoroughly stained uniform, he trudged into the laundry room. Tossing the soiled clothing into the sink, he brought a hand to his face. He never really learned how to properly do laundry, just tossing whatever he could into the rattling falling apart piece of junk people these days called a washing machine, before loading it with some sort of detergent. Somehow, he didn't think that removing bloodstains would be that simple. Sighing, he decided that it was best to ask for some professional help on the matter.

--------------------------

Riza blinked from where she sat, holding a cool cloth to Roy Mustang's brow. The colonel groaned, rolling over slightly and drawing his covers up further on his fever stricken body. "Would you mind getting that for me lieutenant?"

Hawkeye nodded, letting the cloth rest across the colonel's forehead as she stood, moving towards where the phone sat on a nearby table. "Hello, Mustang residence, Risa Hawkeye speaking."

"Oh! Hawkeye, thank god." The voice on the other end sounded absolutely exhausted, but it was easily recognized by the ever observant second in command.

"Havoc? You sound terrible." The blonde woman held the phone closer, concern creasing her brow. "Is everything alright? Did something happen at the base?"

She could practically hear the other flinch, before Havoc took on his forced, carefree tone once more. "Uh, no, not exactly. I was just wondering if you knew any good methods for removing stains from fabrics. I figured you'd still be with the Colonel so I called here first."

Hawkeye frowned, turning to gaze over at Roy, who had managed to sit himself up as he gave her a questioning look. "What kind of stains?"

"Oh, food. Yeah, I just I've seemed to spill some…um…red wine, on my uniform." Havoc's voice seemed a little panicky, his tone and demeanor practically screaming that he was hiding something. "I need to get it out before I go back into work tomorrow."

"Alright…" Hawkeye leaned back, flicking her gaze to Roy, who was then attempting to pull himself out of bed. "Just apply sea salt directly to the stain, and then let it soak in cold water. Add some more salt, before scrubbing the stain with a coarse brush. It'll take the wine right out of your uniform."

"Thank you so much ma'am!"

With that, the line went dead, leaving a blinking Hawkeye staring at the phone in her hand. "Well, I must say that that was quite strange."

"What was Jean calling about Riza?" Roy sat on the edge of the bed, teetering slightly from his fever. Hawkeye shook her head, moving over to help the colonel back beneath his warm, soft duvet.

"Havoc spilled some wine on his uniform. He sounded pretty shaken up for just a stain though." She stated, moving to perch upon the side of the mattress, placing the cool cloth against Roy's brow once more.

"Maybe he was drunk?"

"No…I don't think so. Something feels a bit off." Hawkeye frowned, before shaking her head.

"I'll talk to him about it tomorrow."

---------------------------------------

By the time Havoc had completely finished scrubbing away all of the stains from his uniform, it was well past twelve o'clock. He hung the still drying clothes in the bathtub, before slowly trudging his aching body towards the bedroom. He managed to force himself to pull on a pair of boxers, before he fell into his bed. He couldn't put any pressure on his back, and opted instead to sprawl out on his stomach, careful not to catch his damaged forearms on his sheets. Finally, he managed to close his eyes, knowing that tomorrow would be a living hell.

--------TBC------

A/N: And that's all for now folks! Drop me a review please!


	3. Of Coffee and Survival

_A/N: Oh mai gawd. I am sooooo sorry for the long wait. So I basically moved out of my parents house this year. First year I spent at home to earn enough money to buy myself an apartment, now for my second year I'm bunking with a couple girls. However, our wireless keeps spazzing out. OO Garrh! Anyways, we've spent a good few months without any internet, using internet cafes for most of our homework and otherwise just learning to deal. Hopefully, now that it's really working, I'll be posting as often as my schedule allows._

_Readers/Reviewers: Thanks you soooo much to all those who actually took the time to review. It really makes this all worth it for us authors. Oh, and special super awesome thanks for boll11, who went out of the way to not only review, but to pm me encouraging me to keep on pushing with this. Really, thank you soo much, I just nearly lost a good friend of mine, and wasn't sure how ready I felt to do things like writing again, but you really helped to push me to update. It's reviewers like you that give me the willpower to keep going! And so boll11, consider this chapter in your dedication.  
_

_Warnings: Once again, not many warnings for this chapter. Mostly just plot developement. Next chapter things'll start to get juicy again. Just be patient okay?_

**Chapter 3**

The loud blaring sound of Havoc's alarm clock was not a welcome one from beneath his heavenly cocoon of warmth and nothingness. The noise registered in the back of his mind, jostling him from his deep sleep with a long groan. His mouth felt dry, his tongue a slab of cotton between his cracked lips. He couldn't even manage a coherent thought, his mind groggy and his body heavy and aching. He moved his arms first, wincing as the dried scabs were forced from where they had come to form. His bandages were soaked through where visible, and he was sure were similarly so, where his eyes could not reach. There was no quick and painless way to do this. Well, there was a quick way, but it sure as hell wasn't painless.

Taking a deep breath Havoc gritted his teeth tight, and rolled over. The pained gasping of air escaping his lungs was none to silent as he curled into himself a bit, the wounds ripping open as his body moved. "Shit. Shit. SHIT." If he could just knock that pretty little smile off Archer's face, just once, it would make this all worth it. "Mother Fucker!" His anger seethed out with his frustration, his brow buried deep within his mattress as he attempted with all his might, to get himself together.

A few more angered gasps, and he was straightening himself up. One more frustrated whimper, and he was on his feet, and well on his way to the bathroom. He was on a roll. He knew however, that getting to work on time probably wasn't going to be an option. He didn't even have to glance in the mirror to know that the half jarred scabs on his back and rear still clung to the gauze he had applied the night before. If he wanted to clean up, he'd have to soften up the scabs, and that called for a long hot shower. Not that he minded all that much. It would be worth a lecture and a bit of extra paper work to ease his pain even a little before work.

Not even bothering to step out of his boxers, and knowing that they were probably as blood plastered as the rest of his body, Havoc stepped into the shower and cranked up the heat. As hot as he could stand. No, maybe hotter. But it felt good. A pool of light pink was once again twirling down the drain, his boxers and the bandages that still clung to his body soon beginning to loosen with the weight of the water. He had managed to strip down within minutes, the combination of the damp and the heat enough to peel the fabrics from his skin effortlessly. The promised effort of cleaning the soiled rags on the shower floor was none to appealing, and instead Havoc turned his focus to hauling himself out of the shower, and getting himself cleaned up for work.

Stumbling forward he braced himself on the bathroom counter. The shower was still on, but he had to let the cold air seep in for just a moment. If he didn't, he'd surely crawl back into the warmth of the water and leave. Once a good shiver had wracked up his spine, he forced himself to turn of the nozzle, before moving to grab the rest of his bandages from under the sink. He just barely had enough for a quick patch up, his wounds only covered enough to prevent them from leaking into his uniform once more. He flicked the door shut behind him, binding an old towel loosely around his hips as he moved to grab a clean pair of boxers and his uniform, which was hopefully dry.

Walking hurt like a bitch, his mind seething as he stumbled slightly, tugging sharply at his wounds. He had no time to sit and cry like a little girl. He'd done enough of that already. He had work to do, he had to prove that he wasn't beaten. Not just yet. His uniform was dry enough as he finished maneuvering it around his hips and up his aching arms. Long sleeves, pants to the floor, and a collar to the chin. Really it was the perfect outfit for him. No awkward questions, no obnoxious stares, and no explanations for him to bumble. He was almost set to face the day. Almost.

He wasn't sure that he could stomach any food. Not just yet anyway. But his body and mind sure as hell wanted something, and what better than coffee to pump into your body when everything else fails. Lighting up a cig he wandered into the kitchen. The coffee maker was somewhere under the sink. Or at least that was the last place he remembered it being. By the time he had finished fumbling with the strange brewing device on the counter, Havoc knew that he was already running late. He dug through his cupboards for a mug, one that he could take to work with him. Once the thick black liquid was done and sitting on the counter, he sloshed some sloppily into his mug, taking it black, and made a beeline towards the door.

Food was not an appealing thought, so limping out and into the car was the next thing on his daily agenda. Jesus, he hadn't really got a good grasp on it yet, the tearing of the scabs on his back as he walked, the slow leak of blood into his bandages. What the hell had he done to deserve all of this shit?

No time to fuss now, he'd bitch about things later. For the moment, he had to get to work. Sliding in the front seat of his car he ran a hand through his sweat-drenched brow. He was straining himself, and it showed. He took another deep breath, gathering his wits about him before shakily sliding the key into his car and starting it up. There was no point in heading to work if he was just going to get himself killed in the process. He took to the road, eyes straining as he shifted slightly in his seat. His head was still spinning slightly from the day before, and he hadn't had nearly enough caffeine to drown out the crushing headache that pounded at his skull.

He pulled into his parking spot at the military base, taking a moment to rest his fevered brow on the wheel as he grumbled mentally. This really wasn't what he wanted to do today. He was exhausted, his entire body ached and he felt the effects of a slight fever warming his brow. One more moment wallowing in his own self pity, and he drew his keys out, kicking aside the door and stepping out of the vehicle. He shoved his keys in his pocket, stretching and wiggling slightly to get his bandages in a comfortable state, before slowly making his way towards the main building. He must have been a sight to behold. With the way he was limping and the light hue to his cheeks, he looked like a man who had been raped up the ass, which was a scary thought…considering that it had almost been true. He'd already sucked Archer off hadn't he? Didn't that make him the man's bitch?

Havoc rolled his eyes at his own inner turmoil, putting a hand on his hip to take some pressure off his throbbing back. He'd just grin, making up some bullshit excuse for his injuries and finding a comfortable spot in his desk to sleep the day away. He could probably convince Mustang that he had tried to pick up some other man's girl quite easily. Havoc had the WORST luck with women. Who knew. Maybe fate was just trying to tell him that he wasn't meant to find himself a cute little Jane. Maybe a John would suit him better. Someone strong, handsome and cunning. Someone like Mustang maybe… He froze, his mind snatching up the thought as soon as it was released. Woah, woah, woah! Thoughts like that were NOT cool. In the least.

Bringing a hand to his chest the lieutenant took a deep breath. He had too keep his head. No more thoughts of Archer, Mustang, or anything else for that manor. If he didn't set himself right he'd never last the day. He was already at the office door, and once he stepped inside he had to leave everything behind him. He'd work himself up to it, just count to three and open the door. He reached down, his fingers clutching the handle, when low and behold, the god damned thing swung open. Havoc blinked, suddenly finding himself face to face with a half concerned, maybe a little more than half furious, Hawkeye. "You're. Late."

Havoc winced a bit, bringing a hand up to the back of his head, the action strenuous at that, and laughing nervously. "Ehe, sorry about that. Had a bit of bad luck with a potential date last night. Had to sleep away the after effects of her boyfriends fist in my stomach." She quirked an eyebrow at him, before slowly stepping aside.

"Was that why you called about the wine stain remover last night?" She asked, her hands clutching the clipboard that was placed flush to her chest, her tone holding a strong air of disbelief.

"Yeauh…he kind of dumped a full glass of red wine on me when he came back from the lou and saw me hitting on his girl. He was a guerilla of a guy too, the son of a bitch." Partly true, Colonel Archer was NOT a small man. In any sense of the word. "Just my luck eh?" He chuckled, the noise a bit forced, but he hoped that it was fluid enough to be passed off as actual amusement. He strolled as casually as he could over towards his desk, spinning his chair and resting himself down as quickly as possible, without tearing open any wounds.

Fury pushed up his glasses, peering at Havoc from across the room. "You really need to be careful about who you try your moves on Havoc." He stated, brows dropping down as he flashed his friend a sympathetic smile. "Maybe you could as the Colonel for some advice? He seems to do quite well in that department."

"Thank you peanut gallery." Havoc grumbled, twitching a little bit and forcing a smile towards his co-worker. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to catch up on some shut eye. I spent most of the night stumbling around drunk and I have a terrible hangover."

"Well that's your own fault you lush." Brady called from over a small stack of paper work, a smug grin on his features. "You can't shirk off on work just because you partied hard."

"Oh yeah." Havoc challenged, crossing his arms and returning the smirk. "Says who?"

"Says me." Suddenly two large stacks of paperwork were dumped just in front of Havoc's nose, causing the man to start. Groaning he peered up, the unamused, strict expression of their lovely office flower staring right back down at him. Riza put her hands on her hips, brows drawn down as a stern look crossed her eyes. "I want all of these done by the end of the day, or you're a dead man."

Havoc gulped a bit, uttering out a tiny 'yes mam' before scrambling to pick up his pen and start working. Hawkeye, seemingly satisfied, turned and moved towards her own desk, settling down to her days work. The soft chuckling in the room faded, and soon everyone was busy with their designated duties. Havoc let out a slow, relieved breath, before he drew his hands to his face. The paper piles hid his expression from the rest of the crew, and he slowly let the pain seep into his smile. Well, he handled that pretty smoothly. Now all he had to do was pray that a certain raven haired fire alchemist didn't call on him. If he managed to avoid Mustang for the day, he'd be home free. But this was Havoc, and he knew very well that to him, the fates were never so kind.

---TBC---

A/N: So basically,


	4. Biting the Hand that Feeds You

A/N: Man, I've discovered the joys of late night writing. Who needs this sleep shit, fanfiction is my body's only fuel. Hope you enjoy Chapter Four!

Warnings: Really, still the same. Lotsa angsting, and some non consensual kissing at the end. Racy, I know. But no worries folks, things'll heat up shortly. I hope…I mean honestly, I'm just the author, I have no control over these stories. They write themselves…I swear!

Disclaimer: Honestly, nothing. Me. Own. Get it?

Chapter 4: Biting the Hand that Feeds You

"Lieutenant, I'd like to see you in my office, immediately." Havoc winced, those fateful words echoing in his mind as he watched his superior storm off towards his private study, Raven hair disappearing within as Roy closed the door with a sharp slam. Not only was the colonel back at work, but he seemed to be in the peek of health to boot. Joy. Havoc braced his hands on the corners of his desk, breathing in deeply through his nose as he dutifully resisted the urge to bash his head against the nearest solid surface. And his day had been going so well too…

Slowly, painstakingly so, he rose from his desk, clenching his jaws as his healing wounds were jarred from the position they had become accustomed to through out the day. It had taken him hours to get himself into a comfortable position, and he hadn't planned on moving from it god damn it. He had even opted to skip lunch in favour for the comfort of a cig, a light, and an ash tray within an arms length of his seat. He groaned, running his fingers through his hair as he slowly moved towards the office at the front of the room, his stride as casual as he could manage in his condition.

"What'd you do?" Breda chortled a bit, smirk on his round features as Havoc passed.

"Dunno, probably forgot to hand in a crucial document or some sort." Havoc grinned despite himself, hiding his trembling fingers by shoving them deep in his pockets. He was hurting so fucking bad.

"Again Havoc?" Falman shook his head, his scolding light hearted despite his normally serious demeanor. "That's got to be the third time this month."

"Honestly Havoc, you're going to get yourself fired!" Fury blinked a bit, setting down another pile of papers on Hawkeye's desk. "If you want to make it far in this business, you've got to pull your weight, you know that."

"Yeah yeah, keep your pants on Fury. I'll hold my own." Havoc waved dismissively over his shoulder, before moving up to the door, his knuckles wrapping on the heavy wood. It was just a courtesy, as Havoc knew very well that Roy was waiting, most likely impatiently, for the second lieutenant to walk into the room. The sharp 'come in' was enough to cause Havoc to flinch. "Hoh boy…"

He carefully turned the smooth brass handle, peering back over his shoulder at the sympathetic gazes behind him before slowly slipping inside. As the door clicked softly behind him, Havoc found himself staring, sure enough, at a very irritated looking Mustang. Laughing nervously, as he was accustomed to doing each time he approached his superior's desk, Havoc mentally prepared himself for the barrage of question he knew were coming. He stepped forward, suppressing a wince as he clicked his heels together, giving Roy a lazy half salute.

"At ease." Roy stated, his gaze trained very carefully on Havoc's every move, his eyes searching for something, a hitch in the lieutenants step, a twinge in his tightened shoulders, anything to betray whatever it was Havoc was Trying so hard to hide.

"What can I do for you sir?" Havoc relaxed a bit, dropping his arm as smoothly as he could manage, despite the uncomfortable tug at his aching back.

Roy scowled darkly, his fingers locked beneath his chin as he propped his head up on his elbows. "You're injured, aren't you?" It was more a statement than a question, an incredibly observant one at that.

Havoc startled, his eyes widening a fraction. How in the seven hells could Roy pin point his problem, right off the bat. He was pretty sure his movements were the same as they were any other day, and he hadn't let the pain seep into his features at all, so why was it that Mustang always seemed to know? He swallowed, forcing a casual grin on his features. "Ehe, yeah. I was beat up by some big brute last night and…"

"Don't lie to me Havoc." Roy's voice was deadly calm, his eyes darkening slightly. "Hawkeye told me that you sounded close to tears on the phone last night. I've never seen you cry Lieutenant, not because of pain anyway."

Havoc quieted a bit, his expression hardening as he focused his gaze on the band signifying Roy's rank, the one that sat proudly on the shoulder of his uniform, rather than on the other man's face. Mustang sounded really, really fucking angry. But if Roy was pissed now, Havoc didn't even want to think about how furious the Colonel would be if he found out the truth.

"Who?" Havoc winced, the harsh threat in Roy's words practically sinking into his skin, his wounds twinging with pain as his body tightened. The Colonel's eyes narrowed. He hadn't missed the little twitch in his subordinate's expression. "Who did this to you Lieutenant?"

Now it was Havoc's turn to scowl. What did last night have anything to do with his work? He got fucked over in his spare time, it was none of Roy's damned concern. He didn't know why he was suddenly so irritated, possibly it was the dull throb that had begun to shoot down his spine, he couldn't actually be sure. "With all do respect sir, I got into a fight off the clock, and I don't feel that any of this is your business. It's my problem, and I'll deal with it."

"Jean…" Roy growled, his gaze narrowing as he slowly straightened, flattening his palms on the surface of his desk as he glowered at Havoc. The blonde felt a strange mix of fear and guilt clench in his belly at the sharp tone used for his first name. Mustang never addressed him so formally at work. Even when they were out on the town, it was always Havoc, never Jean. Roy must have really been furious. "What happens to my men is my damned business and you know that. You're hiding something from me Jean, and I don't like it. The last time one of my men tried to do something behind my back, they ended up face down on the street, a bullet in his chest."

Havoc felt his stomach drop, the mention of Brigadier General Hughes a tug at his heart. He knew why Roy was so upset, but he honestly couldn't bring himself to say what Archer had done to him, even if he'd wanted to. "I'm sorry sir…" He sighed, shaking his head as he tugged at the hem of his uniform, trying to ease the pressure of the cloth against his torn flesh. "But, that's it, there's nothing else for me to say to you." The room fell silent, his words seeming to shatter the stilled air. Havoc shifted, the burning discomfort in his back causing his insides to churn as nausea gripped him. He had to get out of there, the stress of standing almost too dizzying to take. "Is there anything else you require my presence for sir?"

Mustang's eyes narrowed, his lips drawn tight as he ground his teeth angrily. But he didn't move to stop Havoc. "Fine." He snapped after another moment, his chair turning as a tired sigh escaped him. Havoc could no longer see the other's face, but he knew that Roy was becoming frustrated. "I trust that you are telling the truth Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc. If you aren't, you know very well that that is direct insubordination, a crime you can be court marshaled for." He paused again, his framed completely covered by the chair back, giving Havoc nothing to base any speculation on as to what Roy was feeling. "You are dismissed. Get back to work."

Havoc saluted briskly, though no relieved sigh spilled from his lips. He didn't know how much longer he could last, the pain in his back completely overwhelming him as he turned on his heels, moving as quickly as he could manage out the office door. Confused eyes found him as he stumbled a bit back into the other room, his face covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Fury was the first to speak, his eyes widening beneath his glasses as he gaze fixed itself firmly on his military friend. "What's wrong Havoc? You look pale…"

Havoc shook his head, smiling shakily as he moved out of the room. "Just a bit of a bitch fest and a bruised ego." He murmured, waving lazily over his shoulder before he was out into the hallway and bolting towards the bathroom. No one had a chance to even fathom a response, he was long gone. He stumbled through the chipped door, his hands finding the edges of the smooth, porcelain sink before he heaved, retching the contents of his stomach into the shallow basin before him with a shaky groan. His arms trembled, the bitter burn of bile in the back of his throat bringing tears to his eyes. "Fuck."

He allowed his head to fall forward, his brow resting on the cool surface of the mirror with a shuddering sigh. His eyes dropped shut, tears slowly trickling down his cheeks as he scrambled blindly to grasp the handles of the tap. His fingers wrapped around the cool metal, giving it a few quick twists before water began to pour out from the faucet. He cracked his eyes open a bit, another choked breath escaping him as he peered down at the vomit-splattered sink, disgust curling in his belly. He back burned so badly that he couldn't even see straight. He stood back, his vision swimming as he placed a palm over his eyes, trying to maintain his balance. He drew his hand down, wiping the back across his lips as he spat out the lingering taste of bile from the back of his throat.

He sighed, drawing forward and grabbing the soap bar from the porcelain counter, his breath still shuddering and tears still flowing freely from his eyes. Why did stuff like this always happen to him? What had he done to deserve the wrath of whatever higher power controlled him? He shook his head, sniffing loudly as he lathered his hands, washing away the stench of his illness.

He allowed the water to run over his hands a moment, the warmth of the liquid giving him a tiny fragment of relief as he let out a tired sigh. He really couldn't handle much more of this day. It was almost over anyways. He had like, half an hour left in his shift. There really wasn't any point in going back to work. He shook his hands a bit, before cupping them, catching some water and bringing it to his mouth. A couple good swishes and he spat it back into the sink, the taste of vomit now completely gone. Satisfied, and significantly less dizzy, he turned off the tap and wiped his hands on one of the towel's that hung on the bathroom wall.

He was finished, he'd done more work that day than he'd done in over a month. Riza would just have to forgive him for taking off early. Having worked himself up mentally into the idea of skipping the end of the day, Havoc pushed out of the bathroom and moved briskly towards the exit of the building. He'd just go home, change his bandages, and take a nice, long nap before dinner.

Havoc was halfway to the exit, when a door opened right in front of him. He stumbled back, his body jerking slightly as his shoulder hit the wall, jarring his already aching back. He let out a startled cry, his breath catching in his chest at the tug of pain that shot up his spine. He hadn't been prepared for the sharp sensation, the dizzying shock of his wounds pulling open causing his just quelled tears to flow from his eyes once more. He hitched back a choked sob, his hands flying out as he stumbled. "Fuck." He grabbed at the wall, leaning on the cool surface as a shuddering pant escaped his lips, his body trembling as he waited for the pain to pass.

He was so far gone that he barely noticed the large, icy cold hands that curled around his shoulders, leading him gently, disturbingly so, into the open room before him. He still couldn't see, the clouds of white that had flooded his vision blocking his sight as his mind swam. The arms that guided him so carefully pushed him down, setting him on what he could only assume to be a couch. The soft cushions provided little comfort to his healing rear, but eased the pressure off of the swollen, aching flesh of his back and shoulder blades. "Deep breaths now." A voice cooed, one of those hands sliding up from his forearms and gently cupping his cheek. The gesture should have been kind, comforting, but it sent a shiver down Havoc's spine, wariness slowly beginning to ease it's way into his gut. That voice sounded all too familiar, but he just couldn't seem to put a face to it.

His mind was clearing now, the pain easing away as his vision slowly focussed, the blurry figure in front of him coming into view. He still couldn't make out any distinct features, the tears that welled in his eyes skewing his vision as they dripped down his cheeks. Something really didn't feel right. He scowled, trying to pull away from the hand that held his chin, but the grip was too strong. A soft noise of disapproval sounded through the room, Havoc's head gently tilted to the side as a small kiss just barely brushed past his cheek. "Maybe I was too hard on my poor little puppy, I do hope that I haven't broken you just yet." Havoc froze, jerking his head as a pasty pale face and a wicked grin came into view. "You've done a good job though pup, hiding it all I mean. Not a drop of blood to be seen, and the swelling in your cheek has gone right down, not even the shadow of a bruise left."

"Archer…" Havoc winced as the Colonel's hand tightened almost painfully on his chin, jerking his face forward until he was nose to nose with the dark haired man. The blonde bit back a whimper, his expression that of agony and disbelief as his hands shot up, trying to remove Archer's fingers from where they had dug into his cheeks.

"However, it seems as though I have been a touch too careless in cleaning up after my messes." Havoc's head was tilted up once more, despite his best efforts to pull away Archer's wrist, and the older man gently pressed their lips together in a ghost of a kiss. The other hand was running through his hair now, gently combing through his golden locks as Archer drew back, a smug smirk on his features. "What would you have done, what excuses could you have possibly come up with, had you run into anyone else in this sorry state?"

Havoc could see perfectly now, could make out every self-satisfied twitch of that bastard's lips as he fondled the injured Lieutenant like one would a lover. "Stop it."

Archer's spirits weren't at all dampered by the feeble protest, smirk holding strong on his features as his hands gently drew away from Havoc's trembling frame. "Give me a moment." He stated, turning and moving over to the other side of the small room. Taking the release of his face as an opportunity to flee, Havoc scrambled to his feet. He had barely made it two steps from the couch, when Archer was on him once more, twisting his arm up behind him back with a burning aggression and spinning him around, pulling him forward until their chests were pressed flush against one another. "Ah, ah, ah. I can't have you leaving like this. At this rate, you'll bleed through your uniform before you make it through the door." He shoved Havoc, a little less gently this time, back towards the couch. The lieutenant stumbled landing hard with a small wince. "Take off your shirt."


	5. Cleaning up Your Messes

A/N: No excuse, just a whole lot of FAIL! Here's the long awaited fifth chapter. Thanks to all that reviewed! You're the best!

** Warnings: Non Con, Mature themes, Swearing and abuse. No Raep yet ppls! Keep your pants on. ;)  
**

**Chapter 5**

The words were harsh, final, leaving no room for question, but fear had gripped Havoc's belly. He couldn't move. He was aching, sore, feverish, and about to get raped…again. Honestly, he didn't know how much longer he could handle this. Upon hearing no response, Archer scowled, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze narrowing on the trembling lieutenant. "Now Jean. Do not make me repeat myself."

Havoc swallowed, his body shaking violently as his fingers moved to the button of his jacket, slowly undoing the long, heavy piece of fabric, before he shrugged it from his shoulders. The uniform's coat was painless enough, being that it was so baggy, but the injured lieutenant really was not too keen on the idea of trying to rip off the flesh that had most likely started to heal to the fabric, without having at least a hot bath first. He glanced up, his eyes pleading with Archer to just leave him be, but the look on the Colonel's face said it all. The shirt was coming off, and that was that.

Taking a deep hissing breath, Havoc grasped the fabric tightly around his wrists, tugging down hard. The bloodied cloth tore at his wounds, tugging and skewing the bandages that before had clung so neatly to his flesh. His mouth fell open, a small, nearly soundless cry whispering past his lips. Tears stung at his eyes, another wave of nausea curling in his gut. He felt as though he would pass out, his entire world collapsing into dark around the edges of his eyes. "Please." He begged the word short and desperate as he took in another shuddering breath. He was whimpering freely now and he damned well knew it, but it hurt so fucking much. "I can't."

At the breaking of the Lieutenant's voice, Archer slowly moved forward. His bitter cold hands ghosted along Havoc's cheeks, holding his face agonizingly carefully, causing a shudder to run up the blonde's spine. "You poor dear." Havoc resolved himself to hold perfectly still, though the constant trembling of his shoulders didn't cease, despite his efforts. Archer was too damned close, and he didn't like it.

"Please Colonel." The words were let out in a forced breath, his entire frame trembling as he closed his eyes tight, just trying to cling to whatever composure he still held. "I can't."

"Shh." Archer ran his hands down Havoc's jaw, trailing them along a strained neck, and down past his belly. The man carefully popped out the button of the trembling lieutenant's standard edition uniform pants, before tugging the zipper all the way down. He reached back up, hooking his fingers in the waistline of both the remaining articles of clothing, leaving his hands there for a moment as he looked back up to meet Havoc's pain clouded gaze. "Deep breaths now."

Archer didn't even give Havoc enough time to mentally prepare himself, before his boxers and pants were tugged down in one fluid motion, nearly taking the bandages beneath with them. The blonde let a small strangled sound pass his lips, his entire frame swaying as his stomach curled with sickness. Hands reached his sides, leaning him over strong shoulders as his legs were lifted out of the fabric that pooled around his ankles. Now completely naked, Havoc was gently maneuvered towards the back of the room, his eyes still blurred with tears. He felt his stomach come into contact with something cold, a gentle push at the center of his back forcing him down across what he could only assume was a counter. They must have been in one of the staff lounges.

Havoc tried to push to stand once more, but Archer just shoved him back down, the Colonel's cold hands now carefully unwrapping the all but dislodged bandages that still clung half heartedly to his back. "Hold still." The man demanded, the tone enough to keep Havoc from struggling as the tensors were drawn from his flesh and left to pile on the floor. "Hm, this isn't good at all. You may have done a good job hiding it, but it doesn't even look as though you disinfected any of the wounds." Fingers gently traced the edge of a wound stretching across his shoulder blades, causing his entire frame to jump. Archer clucked his tongue, as if scolding Havoc for his carelessness. "These were made with metal you do you realize. If you're not careful, you'll get a nasty infection, and someone will find out about our little secret. Oh, if only you hadn't misbehaved yesterday."

Havoc twisted his head to the side, his palms splayed out on the counter at either side of him, bracing his body as Archer's hands continued to trace his wounded flesh. He clenched his jaw together, the twisting in his gut having settled, now replaced by a sharp sting of anger. Archer was playing him for all it was worth. The man knew damned well that all of this was his fault, and yet everything he said put the blame on Havoc.

Suddenly the hands were gone, the pressure from his back leaving completely. Havoc took a chance, bracing himself with his arms and slowly lifting his chest off of the counter. _Not a smart idea._ Hands gripped his shoulders, shoving him down with a dizzying amount of strength, causing his entire frame to tremble. "Fuck." He hissed, his brow resting on the cool granite counter once more, his breath short and quick as he fought back his body's sudden urge to pass out. Archer had just been fucking with him again.

"Did I say you could move?" Nothing, no physical contact what so ever, and no way for Havoc to tell just how close Archer was to him. But he knew that if he tried to stand again, he would surely gain nothing short of a face full of counter. "Hold still, and don't you move an inch until I get back."

Havoc nodded, though he knew the gesture was useless. He wouldn't move, he wouldn't dare. He was naked, weak and bleeding. Even if he did manage to escape, where the hell would he go? Running through the base in nothing but his bloodied up birthday suit really didn't sound like such a good idea. Especially not after all the hard work he'd put in to keep his painful condition a secret. The last thing he needed was to compromise himself and his career.

The silence in the room became exceedingly thick. Havoc shifted, his mind jumping as he heard something open at the far side of the room, probably a cupboard, but he didn't dare look up to check. He stared at the granite before him, the dark, nearly black colour holding his attention as he waited, his stomach curling in sick anticipation. He didn't know what Archer was playing at, but he didn't believe this 'nice guy' act for a moment.

Really, he didn't trust the man any farther than he could throw him.

Suddenly, a small, heavy click sounded through out the room, the noise echoing in Havoc's head, and setting his senses ablaze with fear. He'd locked the door. Whether that was a godsend, or a curse, Havoc wasn't really sure. Half of him had hoped that Archer would forget about the door, that someone would accidentally walk in on them, and save Havoc from whatever fate he was about to face. But that hope was gone now, his wish for rescue being shattered with each heavy footfall that now moved closer to his trembling frame.

_His gun._ He'd almost forgotten the holster that had fallen to the floor with his jacket, his gaze flicking to the article of clothing on the ground, hope rekindling. If he could only make it there before Archer got to him. Adrenaline controlling his actions, Havoc pushed off of the counter. Unfortunately for him, Archer was far too fast for his injured body. Before he'd even managed to think of how to react, a strong hand curled around his forearm, jerking him around just in time for his cheek to collide with Archer's free hand, the blow to his face causing him to momentarily go into a state of shock. Using the Lieutenants confusion to his advantage, Archer jerked Havoc back, his actions none too gentle now. He soon had both of the Lieutenant's wrists in his hands, drawing the poor blonde into his chest with alarming strength, giving Havoc a good, hard shake. "What the hell do you think you're trying to pull soldier?"

Havoc felt afraid, honest to goodness afraid. He had seen this sort of thing before, with victims of spousal abuse and rape, the women and children that the military rescued from broken houses. But he honestly never expected to be on the receiving end. But here he was, Archer throwing him around like some damned rag doll, and he could do nothing to stop him.

Archer growled, spinning Havoc around, this time literally slamming him against the counter, the collision of his belly against the stone surface enough to knock the wind out of the blonde. Archer leaned down across his back, his hands pressing Havoc's forearms hard into the granite counter, his lips finding his trembling victim's ear. "I thought I told you not to fucking move." He hissed, his knee slamming against the cupboard between Havoc's thighs, forcing the Lieutenant's legs out as he pressed down on him with his entire frame. "You just try running again, and I won't be so kind."

Havoc swallowed, his body limp against the counter as Archer pulled back to pick something off of the floor, a plastic bottle of some sort that must have dropped during the small scuffle. He fixed his gaze ahead of him, his teeth gritting painfully as he fought back the fear eating at his belly. For a while, there was nothing. And then, suddenly, something cold and burning hit his back, trickling down his spine towards his tailbone. He cried out in surprise, moving to shift away from the stinging liquid, but finding a hand on the base of his neck, holding him down. "Stop whimpering." Archer's harsh voice cut through the air, the flow of liquid stopping as damp fabric began to ghost across his open wounds, spreading the burn around. "It's a disinfectant, it's for your own good."

The cloth continued to gently work through all of the lieutenant's open lacerations, carefully cleaning, but still causing the blonde to twitch with pain. It stung like a bitch.

After what seemed like forever, Archer pulled back, his grip on the back of Havoc's neck tightening as he hauled the man up to his feet. The Colonel held him standing, leaning over to the side to grab a roll of fresh bandages. "Don't. Fucking. Move." Havoc didn't need to be told twice. He stood perfectly still, the comfortable pressure of a clean wrap starting against his chest as Archer began to bind his freshly cleaned wounds.

Minutes seemed like hours, and Havoc almost wished that the bandaging wouldn't end. If Colonel was busy caring for him, he couldn't be doing [Iother[/I things. But soon enough, Archer cut the last piece of the wrap, fastening the end carefully and drawing back. Havoc nearly whimpered as those hands came back just moments later, coiling around his waist and resting on his hips. Archer pressed his chest flush to Havoc's back, his lips gently grazing the side of the lieutenant's neck. Havoc closed his eyes, his throat becoming dry as he nervously licked his lips, mentally preparing himself for whatever would happen next.

What he wasn't prepared for, however, was for Archer to draw away completely. "I want you to come to my office tomorrow, and every day following that, so I can make sure you're taking care of yourself." Havoc turned, his gaze meeting Archer's, his expression that of confusion. "Don't worry pet, it's not because I care about you or anything like that. I just can't those injuries of yours impeding your work. People will start to ask questions." Havoc's gaze darkened, defiance flashing in his gaze, his fear momentarily forgotten. Fuck Archer, and fuck his games. Archer caught the look, his own eyes narrowing down in a dark and disapproving glare. "Make sure you don't forget to stop by tomorrow lieutenant. That's an order."

Havoc tore his gaze away, flicking his eyes to the floor. "Sir."

"Good man." Those freezing fingers gently ruffled his hair as Archer passed, the Colonel moving silently out the door, leaving Havoc to gather his senses, and his clothing. The bandaging was an excellent job, better than he could have done himself, but yet another bruise across his cheek was not going to be a picnic to try to explain at work tomorrow. He groaned, sliding into his pants, before allowing his body to fall back onto the couch, his entire frame trembling. "Fuck he scares me." But there was nothing he could do. Nothing but wait, and hope.

---TBC---


	6. To Drown one Problem and Cause Another

A/N: So basically OMG. I fail. Like FAIL FAIL FAIL! MeFAIL! Anyways, so basically this took far, FAR too long to do. And it really shouldn't have. And I'm sorry, but I don't plan on giving up on this one, I want to see it through to the end. And as for my reviewers? Thank you so very VERY much for your support! Honestly, some of you guys, sticking with me even when I let you down, it just makes me so happy! 3 I love you all!

Ooooh! And on a side note, I had a wonderful person pm me a couple months back about being a Beta for me, but I have totally lost all contact information for them! le gasp! So if you are this wonderful person, or if you are interested in being my beta (and can tell me how it works, because I fail and have no clue) please drop me a pm! Kay kay, please enjoy this next chapter, and hopefully I wont fail quite so epically for my next installment? Maybe?

** Warnings: Non Con, Mature themes, Swearing and abuse. Reference to Alcohol. Attention: Next Chapter is a Lemon! This is a Warning ahead of time! If you plan to complain, please do NOT read it! Kapesh?  
**

**Chapter 6**

The next week went by with surprisingly little incident. Havoc would report to the office first thing in the morning, making his best effort to avoid the Colonel, and putting on his most sincere working façade for the rest of his crew. He still ate lunch with the boys, talked constantly about the ladies, and smoked lazily in the office. For all intents and purposes, he was his normal, happy self. But just as he would carry out his day like clockwork, he too would leave the office at 5:00 sharp with a lazy smile and a casual wave, and head down to the depths of the military base.

Archer's shit eating grin would meet him before he'd even be able to knock, and the man would have him stripped, cleaned and bandaged in minutes. After which, the military leader had taken to Havoc's company while he worked, and the blonde would end up sprawled across Archer's lap each evening while the other conducted business as if it were normal. And finally, every evening at around nine o'clock, Havoc would be allowed to leave, surprisingly, with most of his pride in tact. But Havoc's luck couldn't last forever, he knew once he healed, things would change.

Havoc stood in front of the bathroom mirror, fingers grasping the edge of the porcelain sink as he took a slow, steady breath. His shoulders no longer hurt to flex, and his arms were all but completely healed. Sure, his wounds were still pinked, and they were incredibly sensitive to the touch, but he wasn't bleeding anymore, and he didn't need to be dressed anymore either. And that's pretty much where he started to worry. He'd been getting steadily better over the past few days, and yet Archer still insisted he come to his office. The man had forgone bandaging now, sufficing in just seeing the wounds, before going straight to forcing Havoc into his lap. But that wasn't what worried Havoc. Oh no, what worried him, was how those fleeting touches seemed to last longer, how those hands were trailing in places they never used to trail, and how Archer's eyes had started to get a predatory gleam in them once more. Frankly, he was scared shitless. He knew it wouldn't be long, before things started to go downhill with him and the pale colonel, what he didn't know, was how he was going to get himself out of this damned mess.

He sighed, turning off the water from the tap, before straightening and strolling back into the office, ready to excuse himself for the day, when an arm shot out beside him, catching his elbow. Now, Havoc never used to be one that would generally be known as jumpy, but considering the nature of the past few weeks, he was understandably on edge. So it shouldn't have come as much of a surprise to him when he let out a startled shout as someone pulled him out and into the hall. Unfortunately, that someone was a certain Colonel Mustang, a certain Colonel Mustang who looked half confused, and half amused. "Lieutenant?"

Havoc winced, scratching the back of his head as Mustang released his arm, an embarrassed flush working across the bridge of his nose. "A-ah, Yes sir?"

"I never took you for a screamer."

Great. Havoc groaned, resisting the urge to turn and pound his face into the wall. "You surprised me sir." He tried, giving himself a good, hard mental kick as he flicked his eyes off to the side, trying to avoid that bemused expression on the other's face. Unfortunately, his gaze immediately fell to the clock on the far wall, a cold sinking feeling working it's way into his belly. Fuck, 5:15, he was already late. "Well sir, I really should be going so if there's anything in particular you wanted to-"

"As a matter of fact…" That grin on Mustang's face was one that Havoc knew all to well, Roy had something planned, something that probably involved a lot of booze and women. Normally, that expression would rise a surge of excitement in Havoc's belly. Today, however, all it did was cause him to swallow nervously. Whenever Mustang got like this, there was no talking him out of whatever had wormed its way into his head. Roy continued to smirk, reaching forward to grab the front of Havoc's shirt and pulling him towards the base's staff entrance. "You're coming drinking."

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT!_ Havoc stammered to try and find an excuse as they made their way out the front doors and into the military parking lot, his heels digging in as he stumbled after the Colonel. "Ah- Sir I'm terribly sorry but I, uh, I have some papers and…"

"This is not a request Lieutenant." Mustang stated, coming to a stop and turning to face Havoc, his hand dropping from the blonde's shirt. "This is an order."

_He was so, royally, fucked._

--

Needless to say, that despite it all, Havoc had a pretty good night. Fury had politely refused all drinks, resigning himself as the designated driver, while Breda, Falman, himself and the Colonel had pitted themselves against Hawkeye in a shooters competition to end all. Turned out, Riza had an unbelievable liquor tolerance, and ten shots, five beers and a martini later, Falman was totaled, Breda was singing off tune to a song on the radio, and Havoc was just about passed out in his seat.

"Fu-uck." The blonde gently pressed his brow to the cool, smooth surface of the bar counter, his head spinning and his stomach turning with a pleasant warmth. So being hot, exhausted and pleasantly drunk, left Havoc with no greater desire than to simply close his eyes, and let all his worries wash away.

Or, that was what he _would_ have done, had it not been for the fingers that had taken to grabbing at his shoulders, gently, invitingly so, drawing him up and from the comfort of the marble slate. "Come on, up you get."

The voice sounded like a terribly tipsy Roy Mustang, the man carefully guiding Havoc up and off of the barstool. The blonde second lieutenant hummed happily, his body slumping against the Colonel's side as they slowly made their way out of the building and towards one of the larger, state owned automobiles. Havoc blinked, his eyes falling to his own car, situated on the opposite ends of the pub's grounds, his hands reaching out to it as they drew away. "W…wait my…I gotta get my…the car…"

"No-oo." Mustang sing songed, shaking his head as they stumbled together into the waiting vehicle, crammed in the back with Falman and Breda, the still coherent Hawkeye, and completely sober Fury residing in the front. "You can get it in the morn-ing."

Havoc nodded a bit, his head resting on Roy's shoulder as he took in a slow, deep breath of the man's scent. Mm, he smelled good. The thought was odd, but for some reason, it didn't set off any warning bells in Havoc's head. He enjoyed a lot about the Colonel, so why shouldn't he enjoy his scent too? He made a small, happy noise, closing his eyes as he leaned into Mustang's frame, a small smile on his features.

Most of the ride home was a bit of a blur, but maybe that was because Havoc never actually ended up going home. Fury and Hawkeye had insisted that he was in no shape to take care of himself. And so Mustang, whom he had stayed with on many occasions before, had agreed to allow Havoc to stay in his guest room. With some maneuvering, and a great deal of care (mostly on Roy's behalf) the two made it inside of his town house, the door sliding shut behind them with a soft bang.

The noise was loud enough to jolt Havoc slightly from his alcohol induced stupor, enough at least, that he was able to notice how smooth the Colonel's steps were, and how steady his actions seemed to be. Just moments before, the other had been a roaring drunk, just like the rest of them. So how was it that he seemed so calm now? "Sm…Roy?"

The dark haired man didn't look up, pushing Havoc's back against the door as he knelt down to pull off the blonde man's military uniform boots. "Yes Jean?"

Havoc hummed a bit for a moment, watching with a confused interest as his shoes were tossed aside, Roy taking him around the waist once more and moving him deeper into the house. "Ho…how come your all…walking, an' stuff."

"Hm?" Mustang led Havoc into what the blonde loosely recognized to be the spare room, setting his subordinate down on the edge of the bed and moving towards the closet.

"I mean…" The blonde swallowed, his feet kicking slightly as he struggled to keep himself from falling back and into the soft covers, his eyes focussing on the busy frame of his best friend. "Yer not all, uh, drunk 'n stuff…anymore."

Roy shook his head, moving over to the bed and setting down a pair of pajama pants and a long sleaved, button up shirt. "Don't worry about it." He stated, moving forward to beging undoing the fastens on Havoc's jacket.

The lieutenant protested, moving back from those hands with a quick swat, before moving his own fingers towards the jacket. "I can get…get…I can do…change by myself."

Mustang stood back with a small nod, watching Havoc with a burning intensity that the blonde didn't even seem to notice as he began to strip down and out of his military garb. Roy's jaw tightened, he hadn't been drinking nearly as much as the other's through out the night, switching out his shots for lime tonic shortly after the first round. He'd wanted this chance to take care of Havoc, to watch him, to try and catch what was up. What he hadn't expected, however, was to see a string of scars revealed as the humming blonde peeled away his standard cut black tee. In a moment the Colonel leapt forward, his hands finding Havoc's wrists as he forced the blonde to hold still, his eyes wide and trained on the pink, angry lines that cross the other's forearms, leaking down behind the curve of his shoulders and towards his back.

"Whatcha doin?" Havoc asked, still smiling lazily as Roy studied him closely, his blue eyes clouded with alcohol.

Roy swallowed, his hands running up to trace the remains of what he could only assume were deep, angry welts, a soft pang hitting him in the chest. How the hell had Havoc managed to hide this from them? What had happened to the blonde, what could possibly have done this much damage? "Nothing." He stated, slowly standing back and watching the other with a twinge of sympathy, and anger. He wouldn't get any answers now, not with Havoc in such a state. "Get dressed, and get some sleep. There's a bucket by your bed if you get ill in the night."

"K-aay."

Making his way to the door Mustang paused, his eyes falling on Havoc's form as the man turned round, the glare of the street lamps from the window enough to light up a sea of thick welts, just barely healed, painted across the lieutenants pale flesh. His fists clenched, jaw tight as he forced himself to leave the room. Havoc was pissed out of his mind, there was no way that confronting him now would do them any good. No, for now, he'd have to figure out a few things. Like for one, who the fuck had the balls to screw around with one of his men.

Because whoever they were, they would pay.

_Big time._

--

Light, Havoc decided, was both an unnecessary, and cruel part of the world. Second only to that, of the blaring of an alarm clock at some ungodly hour in the morning. The blonde braced his hands against his eyes, the shrill, angry shriek of a new day bringing him out of an all but alcohol induced coma. He groaned, his head protesting heavily as he sat up, his stomach lurching into his throat and causing him to cough a bit. Mm, what a lovely morning after. They must have had an absolute _blast_ last night.

"Fuck, I'm never. Drinking. Again." Of course, that a saying of this sort was only a set up for failure, as Havoc knew that no amount of pain could ever truly wean a man from the dark temptations of alcohol. He swung his feet over the edge of the bed, his hands dropping from his eyes to the bed as he hoisted himself up to stand, the act itself taking a lot of concentration, and will power.

And it was just about then, that Havoc realized something.

This wasn't his house.

…And these weren't his pajamas.

"Oh fuck."

"Good morning to you too lieutenant." Havoc startled, nearly tumbling over backwards as he jerked his attention towards the doorway, his eyes, after some amount of effort, fixing on the figure of a certain Roy mustang, standing in the doorway. "How's your head feeling?"

Havoc shifted from where he stood, laughing slightly despite his protesting skull, trying to appear calm when he was anything but. "Like I got over by a semi truck." He stated, slowly moving towards where his uniform had been presumably tossed the evening before. "So uh, I'm assuming this is your place then Colonel?"

"Mm." Mustang watched Havoc's movements carefully, taking in the blonde's every motion, and just barely catching a flash of bare, scarred skin as the man leaned down to pick up his clothing. "You were totaled last night, I took you home, got you changed and put you in bed."

Fuck. Havoc swallowed, straightening agonizingly slowly, his fingers clutched in the fabric of his uniform. That was not what he had wanted to hear. "Um, well…thank you either way, for your hospitality and all." He tried, hoping to veer the conversation away from the eminent danger he could feel, building in his belly. "I mean, damn, we must have been absolutely smashed."

"Mhm." The Colonel made no move to leave, leaving Havoc to stand awkwardly, uniform in arms.

"Well, I think I'll just go get changed then." He tried, moving over towards the door and brushing past Roy, his eyes fixing on the bathroom across the hall. He'd barely made it two steps towards it, however, when Roy grabbed his forearm, yanking him backwards into the room and holding him there. "S-sir I…"

"I saw it Havoc." Roy's voice made the blonde freeze, his hands subconsciously opening as his clothing fell to the floor. Oh fuck, oh fuck. "I saw it all, and I want answers."

"Aha." Havoc tried a smile, his free arm raising up as he sheepishly ran his fingers through his short, blonde locks. "Well, we were both pretty drunk sir, so I-"

"I wasn't drunk Jean."

Havoc's jaw tightened, his eyes immediately hardening on his superior. "Let me go Roy." He stated, pulling his arm back, only to have the other tighten his hold. "I need to get changed, and get my car from wherever the hell I left it. Please. Let. Me. Go."

"I can't do that Jean." Mustang's voice held a sharp twinge of annoyance, his brows drawn down in a bone chilling glare. "Tell me who did this to you."

"Let me go." Havoc pulled back, wincing as the other's grip tightened painfully on his forearm.

"Not until you tell me who did this to you." Roy growled, giving the blonde a small, unconscious shake, his teeth gritting in anger. "Who Jean? Who did this to you?!"

"It's none of your business!" Havoc ripped down, pulling out of Mustang's grip and taking a few steps back, his hand shooting to his forearm, rubbing the sore muscles. "It happened during my spare time, and it was a direct result of my actions. So what the fuck do you care huh?" He moved forward quickly, scooping up his clothing and making a dash towards the bathroom door, locking it behind him with a loud click. His heart was pounding. Roy could not find out about this. He just couldn't.

Havoc took a small breath, stumbling over to turn on the shower. Fuck, this was not going to be a good day.

By the time Havoc was done in the shower, Mustang had finished breakfast and was waiting by the door. Havoc grabbed a bagel from the counter, barely meeting Roy's eyes as the two made their way towards the car that was waiting for them out front. Fury was doing rounds that morning, people all the people in their little party up from their houses, and dropping them at the bar to retrieve their cars. The ride was done in complete silence, the three men not saying a word to each other as they arrived at the bar. By the time Havoc made it back to the office, Mustang was already locked up in his room, leaving Jean to what he assumed to be, a quite, progressive work day. That was, until Hawkeye approached him, a paper in hand.

"For you, Second Lieutenant."

Havoc blinked as he took the paper, wondering idly if it was some sort of message from Mustang, before carefully began to open the seal. His eyes scanned the letter, his jaw tightening and a cold, hard knot of fear, falling into his belly. He swallowed, slowly setting the paper down and rising to his feet. "Um, who delivered this may I ask?"

Riza slowly raised a delicate, golden brow, her arms crossed tightly along her chest. "Well, it was dropped off earlier this morning by Colonel Archer. Apparently it's an order, sent down directly from the Fuhrer."

The paper was pushed aside, Havoc slowly fighting down an angry flush as he moved towards the door. "Okay then, I guess I best take this prescribed day off then." He stopped at the entranceway, peering back into the office with a forced smile. "Enjoy your day of work ladies! I'll see you tomorrow!"

He licked his lips, strolling quickly through the main hallway and towards a deeper section of the base, his mind going over the letter with a slight mental growl. '_Mr. Jean Havoc, it has come to our attention that you have been performing less than par as of late. It is our belief that you should take a prescribed day off. Perhaps you should visit to a friend. I'm sure there is at least one individual that would be very eager to see you. Sincerely, Fuhrer Bradley_.'

Archer had some nerve, dragging King Bradley into their little conflict. But it just went to show, what a dangerous position that Havoc had put himself in. He was stuck in the middle of two power struggles, and unfortunately, Archer seemed to have the head of state on his side.

Havoc took a slow, shuddering breath, his hands bracing on the wall by an all to familiar office door. _Fuck_. He was so royally screwed here. Mustang was starting to figure things out, he'd pissed Archer the fuck right off and now…now the Fuhrer was involved? What the hell was he supposed to do?

What could he do?

Other than stand in front of that death sentence of a doorway, and knock. The second that door flew open though, and those angry eyes met his own, he really really wished he could've runaway. But it was too late.

"Lieutenant."

Havoc swallowed, his tongue slowly dipping out to gently lick his lips. "Yes sir?"

"You're late."

**--TBC--**


	7. Of Wrath and Misfortunes

**Authors Note:** Had this typed up a long time ago, a big virus attacked my computer and I lost half my files and my internet for a month. My hard drives were rebuilt, and I now have my internet back. However this chapter was re-typed, and quite hastily at that, so please forgive any mistakes!

**Warnings: **Rated R for rape/semi non-consensual sex. Things get kind of squiggy from here on out folks! And I'm working on a more descriptive version of this chapter…but that's not exactly what I would call friendly, so it's been censored for now.

**Disclaimer:** Haha, I'd feel terrible if I actually owned FMA, because I would probably ruin it with my twisted ways…

**Chapter 7: Of Wrath and Misfortune**

"Well?" Archer stood back, extending his arm out in the direction of his open office door. "I'm waiting."

_This was not were he should be_. Havoc drew back some, his eyes fixed on the colonel before him, his throat bobbing in a slow, trembling swallow. He knew that the moment he moved, it would be all over. However, if he didn't comply, he would just as quickly be dragged into the room, willing or not. There was absolutely nothing he could do, and in short, he was fucked.

His hesitation brought a drop to Archer's grin, the man's jaw tightening as he reached out. Havoc couldn't help but wince, the none too welcome pressure of the older man's palm slipping down to his lower back, edging him forward. "Come now lieutenant, don't be shy." Archer's voice seemed calm enough, but it held a bite that shot shivers down the blonde's spine.

Havoc cautiously moved forward, his steps stiff as he turned out of Archer's grasp, his heart sinking with each step he took into the room. There was a soft click behind him, the sound of the metal lock sliding into place as the doors sealed shut behind him. He swallowed heavily, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he carefully turned to where he knew the other man stood. "Now look Archer, I-"

Havoc barely had time to flinch, fingers grabbing at his collar and tugging him forward. He stumbled, falling into a blow to his cheek, Archer's hand snapping sharply across his face. With a small cry Havoc drew back, his hands cradling his aching jaw and his eyes slowly brimming with tears. _Fuck_. The blow itself hadn't hurt _that_ badly, but the action left Havoc trembling. He took sharp, quick breaths, eyes squeezing shut in an attempt to quell the tears that had begun to roll down his cheeks.

Hands curled around his forearms, jerking his fingers from where they had rested on his cheek and forcing him to turn. Havoc swallowed deeply, his eyes cracking open into a set, neutral gaze as he looked Archer straight on. The slap was nothing, he wouldn't be broken so easily. No…he couldn't be broken that easily. He knew what was coming, and if he didn't approach things calm and collected, there really was very little hope for him.

Archer's gaze narrowed, and he must have caught a flicker of defiance in Havoc's eyes, because the next thing the blonde knew he was shoved backwards, his legs catching on the corner of the room's heavy wooden desk and causing him to fall. He landed, back flat across the surface, pens and other such office material digging harshly into his flesh. He took a sharp breath, quickly forcing himself up and onto his feet.

He'd barely made it two steps when Archer shoved him back down, his hands just managing to brace the wood behind him as he landed on his ass, arms back and legs sprawled over the edge. He bolted up again, but Archer had shoved forward, forcing himself between the seated Lieutenant's legs and pinning him to the desk. Panic built in Havoc's chest as he tried to squirm back, fighting against the iron grip around his thighs with little avail.

"Don't." Archer leaned forward, the words bit out in a sharp growl as he forced his lips to Havoc's ear. "Don't fuck with me Lieutenant." Havoc couldn't help but shudder, his teeth clenched together in a deep grit. Fuck. Forget it.

"Get off." Havoc muttered, jerking his head to the side to escape Archer's lips.

"No." The word was a bit of a question, something gentle and deceptively light. "No, I don't suppose I will." He was being kinder than he usually was, more gentle, more soothing in his actions. Havoc should have just shut his mouth, he should have just given in, but he didn't. He pushed.

"Fuck you." He was scared, but more than that he was furious. Why the hell was this happening to him? What gave Archer the right to do this? "Fuck. You." He repeated, his eyes flicking up to fix on Archer's, his brows drawn down into a sneering scowl. "Is this the only way you can get any? By blackmailing your subordinates and intimidating them into silence?" The words were harsh, and Havoc regretted them almost instantly after they'd left his mouth. He was really having issues with this insubordination thing today.

This was his superior officer he was talking to, however distasteful the man may have been. He had power, power that Havoc should have minded when he spoke. Shit,

The silence lay thick in the air, weighing down on them as Havoc's brain stumbled to reconcile with his mouth. What the fuck had he done? If he'd just shut his yap, like he'd done for the past few weeks, he could have found a way to get out of this intact. Now…now there was nothing he could do.

Suddenly, the older man reached up, and Havoc braced himself for the strike, but it never came. Instead his face was cupped, a gentle pressure brushing his lips. Strong hands framed his cheeks, the older man's mouth slanting down across his own in a disturbingly caring manor. The Colonel didn't even push the kiss, his touch as soft as anything as he cradled the younger's bruising jaw.

Havoc started, his body trembling uncontrollably as he clutched at Archer's shoulders, his eyes wide. This, this he wasn't expecting. A slap, a punch, yes, but this? He couldn't handle this.

But Archer wasn't done. He moved back, Havoc's fingers slipping from the other's arms as the older man smirked down at him. "You can tell the world all you like." Archer's grin widened a fraction, his fingers tracing Havoc's quivering lips. "Just don't forget to tell them just how much you liked it."

Havoc's stomach tightened painfully, his gut rolling with chilled fear as Archer's free hand trailed along the waist of his pants. Fuck, this was not good. "I won't." He protested, trying to lean out of the grip the colonel had on his chin. "This isn't what I want, this is wrong."

"Mm, we'll see." The hand left his cheeks and Archer dropped down, his knees finding the ground just before the desk. His intentions were clear, but it took Havoc until his pants were halfway down his knees to react.

"Wait!" He sat up straight, grabbing at the fingers that curled around the waistband of his shorts and ripping them to the side. "You don't have to do this." Panic was bubbling in his chest, his hands trembling even as Archer jerked out of their grasp. The man dug his fingers into Havoc's hips, his pointed nose pressing into the blonde belly as he worked. "Really, you don't. We can try something else! Or you could-" His shorts were coming down, and on reflex he moved to grab them, only to have an elbow meet his gut, forcing him back.

"Sit back Lieutenant." Archer stated, his eyes practically gleaming with joy. "And keep your hands to yourself. That's an order."

Havoc watched in dread, his hands twitching at his sides, as Archer's thumbs gently brushed along his hips, dragging down the only thing that kept him from the blonde's bare flesh. The lieutenant swallowed heavily, his throat suddenly dry. This was really, really not good. He could scream now, he could cry out for help and hope beyond hope that someone passed by at that particular moment…

"Do try to stay quiet lieutenant." Archer's lips gently kissed the soft curls that sprung up from beneath Havoc's boxer shorts, dragging the fabric down to join the younger's pants. "Loud noises tend to make me start. And you wouldn't want me to bite down on anything…important, would you?" Jean gave a slight gasp, Archer's teeth sinking into the flesh along his thigh.

"Please don't do this." He was done with being tough, his tone breaking as those same taunting lips drew across his groin and down. "Please, I'm begging you. Archer, Colonel. Please!"

"I'd cover your mouth Jean."

**--**

Roy tapped his fingers impatiently on the edge of his desk, gaze fixed on the blonde woman before him. "And you didn't stop him?" He growled, his voice dripping with anger as he threw his hands across the surface of the wood, knocking his paperwork gracelessly to the ground.

Hawkeye barely flinched at her superior's harsh tone, arms cross her chest as she let out a slow tired sigh. Mustang was panicked, he'd been this way since Havoc had been dismissed from his duties for the day. "I really had no choice in the matter sir." She stated, crouching down to scoop up the files scattered across the floor. She piled them in her arms, straightening their edges before slipping them back on the surface of the desk. "The order came directly from the Fuhrer himself. Some of the military staff have apparently been noticing Havoc's apparent exhaustion, it was upon a group recommendation that they decided to give him the day."

Mustang cracked his knuckles irately, his brows drawn down into a harsh scowl. "Well…" He took a slow breath, trying desperately to keep the hiss out of his voice. "Where did he go?"

"Home presumably." Hawkeye shrugged running her palm across her brow as she gazed at her superior, an annoyed quirk to her frown. "Look sir, I know you're concerned for him, but he appeared fine last night, besides…" She trailed off, flicking her attention towards the window. "He's tired, he could use this time off. If you don't mind me saying sir, just leave him be."

Roy took a breath, his fist clenching at his front as he slowly drew himself up to a stand, his hand raised to his brow. "That will be all lieutenant."

She watched him, her gaze all but emotionless as she drew her hand up in a solid salute holding stiff for a moment. "Sir." Her hand dropped, and with a stony look she rounded and moved briskly out of the office.

A soft click followed the woman's exit, the sound echoing through the silent room and leaving Roy alone in it's wake. The man sighed, his hands coming up to cradle his head as he let out a small sound. "Fuck." He growled, before he tore his hands down, slamming them onto the top of the desk. "FUCK."

What the fuck did Havoc think he was doing. The way he was playing, the Lieutenant was bound to get himself killed. Those damned scars were deep, and angry too. Roy wasn't sure what exactly Havoc had gotten into, but he knew that his third had been hurt, and badly.

So why did Havoc just take off? Why hadn't he checked in?

_Because you scared the shit out of him before work, that's why_. He let out a slow groan, burying his head in his gloved palms. He had to do something about this. He needed to figure out exactly what was going on in Havoc's life, and why the blonde was keeping it from him.

Havoc had always been one of Roy's best friends, and since Hughes death, he had been one of the only people that he felt he could trust. But now, now Jean was lying to him, straight to his face, and he needed to put a stop to it. But the blonde wasn't going to talk to him, he knew that much. He needed to find someone who Jean would feel comfortable around, who he wouldn't deem as a threat…and he knew just the man for the job.

With a frown Roy reached forward, scooping up his phone and placing the receiver to his ear. He dialed a few numbers, his eyes fixed on the turning pad as he listened for the gentle ring on the other end. After a moment he let out a tired sigh. "Yes Hawkeye, I'll need you to call somebody up for me."

He looked down at the papers in his hands, scanning over the last of a few mission reports of a certain blonde haired alchemist. "Archer has the Elric boys back in town, I'd like to see them immediately."

**--**

"St-stop!" Havoc's reached down, his fingers batted heedlessly to the side as Archer continued his slow bob along his cock. He bit back a whimpering moan, his hips thrusting up unconsciously into those god damned smirking lips. This wasn't fair, this was beyond cruel, it was sickening.

Anything, anything would have been better than this. Pants down, legs spread, practically squirming under this bastards tongue. It was just too cruel. The beatings, he could withstand. When Archer was harsh, Havoc could deal. He could hate the man, he could loathe everything about him. But when he was kind, when he was gentle like this, his body just responded.

He whined a bit, bucking up into that irresistible heat despite himself. "Please." He begged, his toes curling as he twitched, his entire frame trembling from pleasure. "Please!" He didn't even know what he was begging for anymore as he shot hard, his entire body tensing with his strangled cry.

Archer swallowed Havoc down completely as he came, catching every last drop. Havoc made a small desperate noise and moved to push the Colonel away, but Archer wasn't finished. The man held him down by the hips, starting the process all over again as he ran his tongue up the bottom of the blonde's waning erection, slowly easing him into arousal once more.

Havoc felt frustration building in his chest, his throat constricting painfully as he let out a frustrated noise. "Archer please!" He choked back a whimper, angry tears welling in his eyes. "I, I can't-" A god forsaken _sob_ broke past his lips, his whole frame trembling as he placed his hands to Archer's crown, gently willing the man to pull away. He couldn't handle this. He couldn't.

Those lips curled up as Archer moved back, the man's grin practically blooming across his features. "You want to try something else?" His curled fingers squeezed at Havoc's hips, an unsettling gleam shining in his eyes.

"No." Havoc bit out, trying to hold back the desperation in his tone. He knew Archer wouldn't listen, and no sooner had he spoken did those lips enveloped him once more, causing him to whine in despair. This was it, this was where his choice was. If he didn't give in, Archer would never stop. But if he surrendered… He shuddered, Archer's slow, solid strokes and the warm pressure of his tight set lips causing his cock to stir once more.

No, he wouldn't just lie here and let Archer bring him to climax again and again until he passed out legs spread on an office desk.

"Wait!" He cried out, drawing his knees up a bit before slamming his hands on the desk. "Just sto- Wait!"

Archer paused, his brows quirking as he glanced up to Havoc's face, his lips still fastened tightly to the blonde's cock. He was waiting for an explanation. Havoc could practically see it in his eyes. _Why should I stop? What's in it for me?_

Jean swallowed the growing lump in his throat, limbs trembling uncontrollably. He would hate himself for this later and he knew it, but what other choice did he have? This at least, wouldn't scar…

He reached forward, barely stilling his arms long enough to cradle Archer's face as he carefully drew the man away from his lap. Once he'd managed to pull Archer off of his cock, he tried his best at a smile, one that came out as nothing short of a grimace. "Let's-" He swallowed, his voice cracking and his eyes squeezed shut. "Let's do something else okay?"

Archer grinned and Havoc let his eyes slip shut, fighting back a grimace as his superior took his lips in a gentle kiss. Hands trailed down his torso, slipping beneath his body and causing the blonde to jump. Shit, shit, shit!

He tried to ignore it, tried to push the sensations away, but he could only do that for so long. His entire body stiffened, a sharp cry escaping into Archer's mouth as a finger pushed quite suddenly into him, jarring his body in ways it wasn't accustomed. He whipped his head back, wincing as it collided against the desk with a sharp crack.

"Fuck." He whined, not sure which was more unsettling, the ache in his skull from the collision, or the intruding digit that now hooked deep within him, causing him to shudder. At the moment, he figured it was probably the latter.

"Careful now." Archer reached up carefully with his free hand, gently cupping the back of Havoc's head as he pushed at the blonde's entrance with a second finger.

Havoc kept his jaw shut tight, his body pushing down as something was struck deep inside of him. Shit, he was losing control, completely, to this man. But he wouldn't give Archer the pleasure of hearing him cave. He focused on the pain in his head, his lips drawn tight in determination.

Archer smiled, carefully withdrawing his fingers and giving Havoc a small look. "Was that not enough for you Lieutenant?" He cooed, his hands moving to his own belt, unbuckling it with a soft click. "I guess we'll just have to give you more then, hm?"

Havoc didn't say a word, he jerked his head to the side, fighting back the panic as a dull pressure slid against his body, threatening to push in.

"This may hurt a little." Archer cooed, his fingers squeezing Havoc's waist just so, causing the blonde to squirm a bit. "Are you sure you're ready?"

It wasn't really a question, because there was only one answer Havoc would be allowed to pick. If he said no, Archer would only find a way to twist his answer into that of acceptance. The man was forcing Havoc to make this consensual, and it was tearing him apart.

"Yeah…" With what little courage he had left Havoc took a deep breath, his eyes still fixed on the far wall. "I'm ready."

And Archer pushed.

** --Censorship time!--**

Havoc barely made it through the door of the office's private bathroom before he collapsed to the ground, his entire body heaving. His hands scrambled for the edge of the toilet bowl, his shoulders hunched up as he wretched the contents of his stomach into the basin before him.

"Ngh." He shut his eyes tight, hunching up further around the bowl as he choked, heaving into the bowl once more. He body continued to heave and tremble, his flesh pale and kissed with a sheen of sweat. The after shock of their actions had hit him hard, and no sooner had the climax worn off did the nausea hit. He'd actually had to have Archer help him across the room before he'd managed to throw himself at the toilet, his mind swimming as his stomach was emptied.

He spat a couple times, his palms braced against the smooth porcelain of the bathroom floor as he slid down onto his hands and knees. He still felt sick, but he knew the lurching with useless. He hadn't had anything to eat in over a day, and he'd finished throwing up his three cups of black coffee fifteen minutes ago. Not that he could actually manage to reason with his body. Not today, not after all of this.

His shoulders trembled, another dry heave cracking his lips open in a soft gasp. Pain was pulsing up the base of his spine, the ache slowly building until he felt he would surely collapse. Arms curled around his stomach not a moment to soon, his quivering palms slipping out from underneath him as his body was drawn up into a strong but sickening hold.

"Shh." Fingers braced his brow, wiping back his damp bangs as he was pulled into Archer's lap. The action was terrifying in itself, the way that the Colonel could man handle him so easily, treating him like a mere child without even breaking a sweat.

"This is wrong." Havoc choked out, his hands shooting up to cover his mouth as another wave of nausea hit him. "What if…what if someone found out? What would you…I…_we_ do?"

The fact was, there was no way out of this. Havoc couldn't claim rape, because he had verbally consented. Willingly or not, he'd enjoyed what they'd done, and could be held equally responsible for the act.

Archer merely smirked, pressing his lips carefully to Havoc's flushed brow. "There is a way, for me to convince the Fuhrer to over look this." He paused, watching the blonde carefully before speaking finally with a broad grin. "Go out with me."

**--TBC--**

A/N: Confused? Yeah, so am I…but Archer's thinking will be explained next chapter. R&R if you can spare a moment! 3


	8. The Consequences of Living

**Authors Note:** Yeah, I'm adding now? Don't hate me? Sorry if it's late?

**Warnings: **After effects and weirdness. Mostly just a big mind fuck for Havoc. Joy?

**Disclaimer:** Um...no. I don't.

**Chapter 8: The Consequences of Living  
**

Havoc drew his knees up to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around himself as he stared silently at the floor, a slight tremor in his shoulders.

"Here." Warm steam wafted up into his face as a mug was pushed into his hands. He bit his lip, his brows drawn down into a small scowl as he gingerly drew the cup towards his chest . It was coffee, black, Columbian.

_Was he supposed to say thank you? _

He didn't bring the cup to his lips, instead resolving to stare the liquid down.

"Something wrong with your drink?"

_Yes. You're the one who gave it to me. _"Nothing." He murmured, his fingers clenching tightly around the porcelain mug. "I'm just not thirsty."

"Sure you are." Archer moved to kneel in front of Havoc, splaying his palms across the insides of the blonde man's thighs. He gave Havoc a warning squeeze, his nails digging into the fabric of his pants slightly before he nodded up towards the drink. "Go on." He urged, his eyes never leaving the Lieutenant's face.

Havoc shuddered, his hands trembling slightly as he brought the mug up to his mouth, gingerly taking a sip of the hot liquid and wincing as it burned the top of his tongue. "It's too hot." He stated, setting the mug back down into his lap, hands still wrapped firmly around it.

"Did you burn your tongue?" Archer chuckled a bit, reaching up with one hand towards Havoc's face. The blonde flinched away from the touch, his initial reaction to jerk back, before a sharp look from Archer told him off. He swallowed, fighting back the urge to squirm away as the older man cradled his chin in a gentle, almost mocking manour.

"I'm fine." Havoc insisted, his eyes fixed firmly on the mug in his hands. He couldn't look at Archer, the man was just so…overpowering. In presence, body and mind.

"Good." Much to Havoc's relief the other's hand fell away, returning to his legs and giving his thigh a soft pat. The silence in the room stretched out and not knowing what to do, Havoc took another sip of his drink, blowing this time to cool the scalding liquid. The silence was heavy, almost overbearingly so. It made him uncomfortable, not knowing what it was Archer was thinking, but knowing that the man's eyes were still trained on his face, not leaving for a moment.

It took all of his courage to do so, but he eventually looked up, locking gazes with his superior and shooting the man a small, confused look. "What?"

The meek response got a smile out of Archer, the man's thin pale lips curling up in a snake like smirk. "You still haven't answered my question."

Havoc shifted uncomfortably, a biting pain of nausea twisting in his belly. He was hoping that they could have just pushed this question away. He didn't want to talk about it, he didn't even want to _think_ about it. "What question."

"Lieutenant…" The voice was low, demanding, a soft warning against his feigned ignorance.

His brows creased. "Well, what am I supposed to say?" Havoc bit back the growl in his tone, knowing very well the consequences that his anger would instill. Instead he merely sighed, adopting a look of defeat on his features. "This…this isn't what I…I can't…you…"

"I." Archer's hands trailed up further, his fingers each coming to rest at the subordinate's hips. "Am trying to be as kind as I can about this Lieutenant." His thumbs dug in just above Havoc's groin, causing the younger man to squirm uncomfortably. "If you do not wish to comply, I could always talk to the fullmetal boy and his _hollow_ little brother. I'm sure they'd be willing to do just about _anything_ to keep each other out of harm's way-"

"No!" Havoc shot his head up, barely managing to still his coffee as the scalding liquid threatened to spill out and onto his lap. "You can't mean to involve them in…they're just kids for fuck's sake!"

"Language lieutenant." Archer scolded softly, still settled between Havoc's knees in his crouch on the floor. "And I most certainly _can_ and _will_ involve them in whatever I see fit. They aren't children here Lieutenant…they are soldiers."

So this was the game. Havoc could comply, could subject himself to this man's sick games willingly, or Archer would turn his attention elsewhere. _Fuck_. "I guess I…yes."

"Yes?"

Havoc swallowed, part of him really wishing that Archer wasn't kneeling before him. It made it seem as though the older man had proposed or something. Fucker probably did it on purpose too. "Yes. I'd _love_ to go out with you Colonel."

Archer's lips curled up in a snake of a grin. Smug bastard. He leaned up, pressing his mouth to Jean's in that horribly gentle manner that made the younger man's insides squirm. "Good." He drew away, lips finding the other's forehead, trailing kisses along the crown of his hair. "Seven o'clock, that little pasta place on Fourth Ave." He rose, offering the lieutenant a hand.

"A…a date?" Havoc frowned. He set his cup to the side, hesitantly accepting Archer's offered arm and allowing the other to pull him to his feet. The shift from seated to standing caused a sharp tightness to burn up his spine, trailing from his ass up to his lower back. Walking would _not_ be fun.

"Yes _Jean_." Archer drew the subordinate closer, their chests flush together as he smirked smugly down at the younger man. "You haven't had one of those in a while, correct?"

Jean coloured slightly, looking away and doing his best to fight the scowl that was working its way across his features. "_No_. I _have not_ had a date in a while." He confirmed, knowing that Archer expected his answer. If he just complied, if he played along, things would be a lot less painful.

"Well, I'm sure this evening will be quite…refreshing in that case." He turned, his arm still hooked around Havoc's waist. He led them towards the door to his office, pausing with his hand hovering just above the handle. "You can tell people about our relationship." He stated, nodding a bit to himself as if to affirm the statement. "However…" He turned his attention down to the blonde, their gazes locking. "I would greatly appreciate it if you would be kind enough to keep the…_details_, of our arrangement to yourself."

"Right." Havoc cast his eyes to the side, his hands rubbing together self consciously before the door opened, Archer ushering him outside.

"Now don't forget tonight." Archer spun him around ignoring the presence of his secretary as he leaned down to press his lips to the other's brow. The woman giggled a bit and Havoc felt his stomach drop. "And try not to be too late."

"Of course." Havoc did his best at a meek smile, half limping out the conjoining door and into the hallway. He paused, turning despite himself to give Archer a small wave, his insides churning as the man returned it with a satisfied smirk. This was really playing this up…it was almost unbearable. He allowed the door to slip shut, his hands flying instantly to his mouth as he leaned heavily against the wall. _Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT._

How the hell was he going to get out of this now?

---

"And I'm saying I don't care about his god damned problems!" Edward Elric turned and kicked the wall by which they were walking, his teeth gritted as he growled in frustration. "I don't even work for that conceited asshole anymore, so why the fuck do I have to 'report to his office immediately for an important meeting'. Bastard!" The poor wall got another harsh kick, a few passerby's sending the two small looks as they moved through the hallways of central's military base.

"Brother please!" Alphonse, reached down, placing his cold metal hands on his older sibling's shoulders, trying to steer the alchemist out of the way of the workers they passed, apologizing to each of them as they went. "The Colonel has done a lot for us. And it sounds like he needs our help! Can't you just behave this once?"

"Behave, I'll show you who's behaving you little-" Ed stopped short, his gaze falling on a familiar face making his way towards them. The blonde boy's eyes lit up, his scowl turning to a big grin as he raised his arm up, waving enthusiastically at the new comer. "Lieutenant!"

Havoc blinked, looking up from where he'd fixed his gaze on the floor, his eyes raising to meet the Elric brothers'. At first something flashed through the older man's gaze, something that Ed could have sworn to be either fear, apprehension, or a combination of both, before the expression melted away into a big smile. "Chief! Alphonse! What are you two doing back in town?"

His voice sounded…strained. The cheer so blatantly forced that it almost sounded bitter. Almost. "Lead was a dead end." Ed explained with a small shrug, noticing a tiny hitch in the older man's step. "What's up with your foot Lieutenant?"

The taller blonde stopped just in front of the two boys, his brows creasing in confusing. "Come again?"

"You're limping."

Edward watched with mild interest as panic flashed across Havoc's features, before the man simply shrugged. "It's fine." The panic left, a smile finding its way back onto his features. "Let's just say another one of my 'dates' went array."

"Poor Lieutenant." Alphonse laughed a bit, shaking his head at the older blonde. "You never seem to have any luck with the ladies."

"That's for sure." Havoc straightened, flashing the boys a grin and a mock salute. "Anywho, the higher ups gave me the day today, so I'm heading home." He side stepped the two brothers, waving at them over his shoulder. "Don't be causing too much trouble now!"

"We won't!" Al returned the wave, his heavy armor shifting as he moved. "Enjoy your day off!"

The man disappeared behind the corner, moving at that slow careful pace that gave away the obvious pain he was in. Ed frowned, his hands on his hips as he leaned against the wall a bit. "A bad date huh?" He muttered under his breath.

"What was that brother?"

"Nothing." Ed turned, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his trademark red jacket. "Come on, Colonel's waiting." ­­­­­­

---

Roy tapped his fingers impatiently on the hard surface of his cedar desk. He was beyond annoyed at this point. This was the first time in his military career that one of his men was _keeping _something from him. The first time that his own damned people couldn't trust him enough to tell him when they were hurt and in trouble. Those welts on Havoc's back weren't an accident. Someone was fucking with his men, and he needed to know who.

The loud, heavy slam of a palm on his office door was the only warning Mustang was allotted before a small, angry ball of energy burst into the room, mouth already running with a string of insults to make up for their lost time apart.

"What the hell _is_ this Colonel? We just got back for the love of all things holy!" Edward Elric stormed straight up to his superior's desk, slamming his palms down on the surface with a more than necessary vigor. The second brother, following at his elder sibling's heels, just laughed nervously, holding his hands before him apologetically.

"He doesn't mean that sir." Alphonse tried, moving up to place a cold, metal hand on his brother's shoulder. "We're glad to be of service to you."

"Bull shit!" Ed shrugged his younger brother's hand off of his arm, pointing an accusing finger at the suit of armor. "We don't even work for this bastard anymore, so don't encourage him!" His body pivoted, that finger now pointed in Roy's direction. "And you, what gives you the right? What makes you think that we're at your every beck and call!"

"Well," Roy slowly raised a brow, though he couldn't bring himself to smile at Fullmetal's usual antics, "you're here aren't you?"

Ed opened his mouth, in some apparent attempt at a comeback, before Alphonse stepped in, sounding as polite and sheepish as ever. "Brother may not act like it lieutenant, but we're your friends. We're here to help if you need us."

"Speak for yourself. I don't even work for you anymore Roy." The blonde continued, completely ignoring his younger brother. "Yet somehow you always manage to drag me back into your little world. How is that? Really, I mean come on! Any bloke with half a brain could tell that you-"

"Edward." Desperation. It rang through the room long after the word itself had dropped from the air. Roy never let himself appear weak, never allowed himself to show his panic or concerns, not unless something was wrong. Really, really wrong.

Both boys fell silent, a small glance shared between them before either one spoke.

Roy sighed, bringing his hands to his mouth, leaning on his elbows and glancing at the brothers from over his fingertips. "I need this to be kept off of the records."

"What happened." It was more of a demand than a question, Ed's brows drawn down into a deep scowl.

"It's…" Roy trailed off, his hands finding his brow as he cradled his nursing headache. The weight of his concern over the past few weeks had finally caught up with him, threatening to leak over the brim of his self control. "It's complicated."

"Isn't it always?" Ed leaned back in his chair, his disposition suddenly laden with a maturity beyond his years.

"Try us, we're listening." Alphonse, having barely said a word since they entered the room, piped up from where he sat behind his brother.

"Alright." The Colonel straightened, palms spreading out on the desk in front of him as his brow creased in concentration. "It started a few weeks ago, just shortly after you guys left on that trip out east." He paused, as if searching for the right words. "Something…happened. To one of my men."

"Let me guess," Ed's hands found the arms of his chair, clenching there gently as he thought. "Havoc, right?" Roy's eyes widened a bit.

"What makes you say that brother?" Alphonse started, sitting upright in his chair.

"When we bumped into him on the way here." The blonde shrugged a bit, his gaze darkening. "He was different, spooked almost." Fingers tightened, his automail hand lifting from the fabric of the chair to avoid damaging it. "He was limping."

Roy's stomach went cold, the hands that clutched the desk turning white. Havoc was supposed to have gone home hours ago. "Limping?"

"Yeah. He mentioned something about a bad date." Alphonse shifted in his armor, gazing warily out at Roy. The colonel was upset, tension practically oozing from his stiff form, more than enough for both brothers to pick up on. "Why? What's going on sir?"

"He wasn't limping."

Alphonse blinked, looking between his brother, who had suddenly gone quiet, and the colonel, who's gaze was now fixed determinedly at his fists. "Sir?"

"The Fuhrer gave him the day off today. He's been acting weird lately, and apparently the King has deemed that his work is being affected." A load of bullshit, in his opinion. How the Fuhrer even found out about Havoc was beyond him. None of Mustang's men had said a word…so who the hell told Bradley anything? "He left the office first thing this morning. And he wasn't limping."

"That…" Ed furrowed his brows tapping his fingers on the edge of the chair. "That doesn't make any sense."

"He should have gone straight home." Roy agreed, his fingers bracing his nose and his eyes squeezing shut tight. "He shouldn't still be here. And he shouldn't be limping."

"What the hell is going on here Roy?"

Mustang took a deep breath, his gaze finding the Elric's. "I don't know." He murmured. "That's where you come in."


End file.
